The Lestrange Child
by Robina Snyder
Summary: Before she died Rudolphus convinced Bellatrix to have a child, a daughter. After their death, Tactia Lestrange is sent to Hogwarts, where she must deal with family and social pressure, as well as the chance that she may have inherited her parents insanity
1. Prologue

_Narcissa crumpled, falling at Snape's feet, sobbing and moaning on the floor._

"_My only son…my only son…"_

"_You should be proud!" said Bellatrix ruthlessly. "If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service on the Dark Lord!"_

But she didn't have sons, would never have sons. She'd known that then. She'd had one chance, one chance at a son, and it had all been swept away. She'd already known then, at that time, though she wasn't showing.

"_You married me because that was what you were supposed to do," Rudolphus said, crossing his arms over his chest. His red-brown hair was cut to around his ears, and his little beard/mustache that stretched up into his side burns exactly like he had looked when they'd been married… well, not exactly, his face want much more gaunt and lined. "You realize that if we don't have a child, you will have effectively killed off the Lestrange line."_

"_Why can't your brother and his wife take care of it?" she snarled, pacing. She already knew the answer, but she was trying to avoid the issue._

"_Rabastan did have children, they also died, and now his lovely wife is barren. He may be my younger brother, but he's still in his fifties. Besides that, Rabastan and Vega love each other," Rudolphus said with a cold tone, making Bellatrix wince just the tiniest bit. She knew it was a slap at her, for marrying him when she wasn't even the least bit attracted to him._

"_And if I refuse? I am favored by the Dark Lord, I have many important duties," she responded._

"_Do we not believe in pure blood above all else? Would it not be a matter of betraying the Dark Lord if we do not carry on one of the few remaining pureblood lines, especially when so many others have been snuffed out?" Rudolphus asked, pushing away from the table he was leaning against and striding over to her._

"_You don't believe that," Bellatrix said stubbornly._

"_It's not a matter of what I believe, dear Bella," Rudolphus said, laying his hand against her cheek and tipping her head up into a kiss. "What matters is what you believe… besides, consider this. Dear cousin Lucius has a higher rank than you, though you are by far more loyal, and more willing to do anything for the Dark Lord. Why is that, do____you think? When the Dark Lord himself recognizes your superior ability and your great loyalty? Lucius has provided the Dark Lord something you have not: a new generation, a new follower, a continued belief in his ideals," he said, his lips still resting against his wife's, brushing against them as he spoke in a soft, sultry tone. _

"_What are you saying, Rudolphus?" Bellatrix asked, though she knew, and he knew that____she knew. _

"_Have a child Bellatrix, an heir who will have a pure line of Lestrange and Black, an heir you can offer to the Dark Lord's service. Is it not the ultimate sign of loyalty? To offer a firstborn son, even an only son, to our Lord? Will there be anyone who can say they are more willing or loyal than you, my fair Bella?" Rudolphus asked with a smile._

"_No, no, of course not," Bellatrix murmured, mesmerized by the prospect._

That was how Rudolphus worked, with words meant to sway her heart when nothing else could. He'd known before they were married that she desired no one but the Dark Lord, and yet he had still been happy in the marriage. Bellatrix had disliked the idea of even sleeping with him, but he had spoken to her with his honeyed poison words, and he always convinced her in the end. He supplicated her by following her plans and giving her what she wanted… but in the end it always came down to what he wanted.

She didn't even believe that he'd wanted sons. If she could have found a way to prove that he'd done this to her on purpose, she would have. She'd wanted to give the Dark Lord a son; that was how Rudolphus had talked her into his little scheme in the first place. That was why she had gotten pregnant… but she wasn't having a son was she?

She was having a daughter.


	2. Chapter 1

Rudolphus had always liked Bellatrix. She had always been beautiful to him. He found her insanity very pretty… she only got prettier after leaving Azkaban, when her desperation was almost palpable. It was easier to talk her into bed when they'd been first married, but after the Dark Lord rose again, it became a better game. Bella was so in love with a man she couldn't see had never loved anybody. It was cute, really.

Rudolphus had never cared that Bellatix would never love him; he found it was simply part of her charm. His bloodline, and his enjoyment of the pain of others, was all that kept their marriage together. Rudolphus wasn't deluded like so many other Death Eaters. They believed that they alone knew the Dark Lord's secrets, that they alone were his most trusted, most beloved. Bellatrix was one of the worst for that. None of them could see that the Dark Lord saw them as fodder, that maybe even his pureblood beliefs were less than true. If the Dark Lord truly cared for the Purebloods, then he would not send them out so carelessly, or kill them out of his own annoyance. But the Dark Lord didn't care, and it had always been clear to Rudolpus.

And yet he had joined the Death Eaters. In truth, he cared little about Pureblood supremacy, though he never would have married a half-blood or a mudblood. In fact, if it hadn't been Bella, he wouldn't have married at all. He joined the Death Eaters because with them he could act on his violent urges. He didn't have any illusions about where his personality came from. Muggles called it genetics. Muggles also called it inbreeding. Rudolphus was a product of the idea of Pureblood Supremacy, which made him very powerful, but also very mentally unstable, and easily susceptible to illness.

Even after leaving Azkaban for the first time, Rudolphus continued to be a Death Eater, again enjoying the suffering of others, at the side of his beautiful wife. But that was how they'd gotten in Azkaban in the first place, the torture of two Aurors. Really, it was like looking in a mirror, watching a man and wife who went into the same profession for a war, but then it was a mirror, and opposite. How the man had begged to not let his wife got hurt. They hadn't known anything. Of course they hadn't, they were too low on the scale to know anything. He still didn't know why his dear little Bella thought they would know anything. He hadn't asked, he'd just enjoyed.

But then they'd been arrested, and locked up with the dementors. You couldn't have a single happy thought with the dementors around, but that didn't mean that Rudolphus didn't have very persistent and very sane thoughts. He remembered the torturing of Frank and Alice Longbottom. Of course the dementors stripped away all the fun from the memories, but he had to thank the disgusting hooded ghouls for one thing: they helped clear his mind.

It had never occurred to him before how annoyed he was that Bellatrix had to be tricked into anything. It had never occurred to him before that he actually wanted something to love him. He realized that what he wanted was a child, something that had to love him because it needed him. When they were broken out of Azkaban, Rudolphus knew exactly what he wanted.

Persuading his dearest Bella had been easy, the conception had also been easy. The birth hadn't been, especially since watching the processhad been very, very interesting. But then the baby was born, and she was so quiet. No matter what the healers did the baby wouldn't cry at all. The bruised her, and yet she wouldn't cry. She wasn't mute, she could make little cooing noises, but she wouldn't cry.

Rudolphus had named her: Tacita, Tacita Lestrange, for his quiet little girl. And he had loved her, and maybe for a short time, she loved him as well, but then the war ended and he was sent right back to Azkaban (sans dementors). Bella had wanted Tacita to go to Narcissa should something happen to them, but Rudolphus vetoed that when Bella died. He sent her to Vega, his brother's widow. It seemed less cruel, somehow.

He wanted to see her again, but it took so long for the bureaucracy to move enough to allow Vega to bring her. She looked so much like her mother, with her third black hair, though she had his lighter brown eyes. He knew he loved her when he saw her. Yet, at that time the girl had looked at him like he was a stranger. He never did get what he really wanted.

* * *

Tacita had one memory of her father, just one. She was seven years and twenty-eight days old, and her Aunt Vega told her they were going to Azkaban to see her father. She'd seen pictures of him, seen pictures of her father. Aunt Vega told the most graphic stories about their lives and adventures. Aunt Vega was so proud of them, though secretly. Aunt Vega hadn't been a Death Eater, and it was terribly unpopular to be one, or to be related to one. Aunt Vega had to be silent about her continuing allegiance, but she taught her niece everything she could about Pureblood Supremacy.

So when Rudolphus's request was finally allowed, Aunt Vega dressed Tacita in a cute, itchy little spring green dress, curled the girl's hair, tied it back with a ribbon that matched the dress, and took her on the boat out to Azkaban. Tacita remembered that it was December, nearly Christmas, and it was very cold out on the ocean. She also remembered walking through the halls, seeing people who she'd only heard or read about, Death Eaters and ministry officials from the Dark Lord's regime. Then she was standing out in a very small courtyard.

She remembered how thin he was. He looked freshly cleaned; like he hadn't bathed in a long time and then been scrubbed viciously right before she and her Aunt Vegahad showed up. His clothes were like all the other uniforms that belonged to the prisoners. She remembered the silence in the halls. There were silencing charms, and charms that kept the prisoners from seeing outside their cell, though anyone could see in. She'd been told that it was to simulate life with dementors, except without the dementors.

Her father looked so thin, his face was gaunt, and he seemed very ill. She'd been young, but he'd told her when she asked. "It's all genetics, dear. This is the price we pay for our power. Inbreeding causes illness." That one answer affected her more than the entire rest of the visit. She didn't remember much of what was said. She remembered getting hugs and kisses from the man who was her father. She remembered feeling strange because she didn't understand him at all. She didn't know what to do with someone who was her father, but whoshe didn't know. She remembered him saying her loved her. She remembered her aunt taking a picture of them together. That was all she remembered of him. She remembered more about the prison than about the man who was her father.

He died a month later, naturally weak to illnesses, worn out from prison, and under-cared for by the guards. Tacita felt nothing when she heard he'd died, but she'd gone and looked at the picture her aunt took for the first time since it had been taken. She hadn't even looked at it when it had first been handed to her. Three-and-a-half years later, the picture sat pressed between the pages of her favorite book, near the top of her trunk as she sat on the train to go to Hogwarts.

_"You have to be in Syltherin," Aunt Vega said. "I was in Slytherin. Rabastan was in Slytherin. Your mother was in Slytherin. Your father was in Slytherin. It's in your blood, you have to be in Slytherin."_

Those words rang in Tacita's ears as she sat on the train, silent and still, staring out the window. Those words rang in her ears as she boarded the boats, making her journey across the water to Hogwarts. Those words rang in her ears as she entered the Great Hall, and heard the Sorting Hat sing its song. Those words rang ears when her name was called and people started to murmur, wondering if she was at all like her famous mother who had been killed in that very hall almost ten years before, wondering if she was like the woman who'd tortured Professor Longbottom's parents. Those words rang in her ears when she sat down on the low stool and the Sorting Hat fell on her, down to her nose.

_"Ah, another Lestrange. It's been a long time. How about Slytherin, like your parents?"_

Those words rang in her ears as she gave her reply. _"No, I'd rather be in Hufflepuff."_

_"I see, then…_HUFFLEPUFF!"

'_I suppose Aunt Vega's going to be very angry when I tell her,'_ Tacita thought as she made her way to her seat at the Hufflepuff table, to the sound of very quiet applause.


	3. Chapter 2

_To my dearest Hannah,_

_I hope the girls aren't giving you much trouble. I know you told me to write every day, but I don't expect that you thought I'd be writing so soon. I'm just writing because I have something to tell you. Do you remember how I was upset that the offspring of the Lestranges' was going to be coming to Hogwarts this year, and I'd have to teach her? Do you remember how we figured out that I'd only have to see her for class and with a bunch of students and wouldn't have to have too much direct interaction? Well, she was just sorted into my house this evening._

_Anyway, love and kisses. Hug the girls for me, and I'll see you next weekend. _

Neville Longbottom promptly scratched through everything he'd written and used his wand to set the paper alight. He wasn't sure it was the worst letter he'd even written, but surely it was the worst one he'd written since he'd been at Hogwarts… as a student. At age 26, he was currently the youngest member of the staff, with only a previous year under his belt. He'd applied for the job when Professor McGonagall stepped down as Headmistress, and Professor Sprout succeeded her. Neville had enjoyed teaching. He'd been an Auror before, but his real passion was growing things.

Until now, he'd only seen one problem with teaching at Hogwarts: that he couldn't see his wife and children as often as he would have liked. He could only leave on weekends, and really, it was rather wrong to leave more than every other weekend, since most of the rest of the staff just lived on campus. Of course, the difference was that most of the other staff either didn't have a family, or their family was grown up and gone.

Now, though, he was faced with another problem, something he'd never considered: teaching a student he didn't want to teach. The previous year he'd had trouble with students who thoughtthat, because he was closer to their age, they could get away with more. They quickly learned that Professor Longbottom, while not cruel, was a very skilled and perceptive wizard, and one who wouldn't put up with his students acting out. He'd had to be very strict in his first year. A number of times, he'd looked in the mirror and wondered if he'd suddenly grown the vulture-topped witch's hat, green dress, and red purse he'd put on the boggart back in this third year. He'd never expected to be acting so much like Gran.

He'd had students that were, at best, complete snots, but he hadn't really hated teaching them. He hadn't wanted to particularly deal with them because it was a pain, but not because of the students themselves. This was entirely different. Tacita Lestrange was the daughter of people who'd tortured his parents until they'd lost their minds. He wasn't sure he could look at the girl and not think of the gum wrappers his mother gave him as gifts, as if it was the only way she knew how to love him.

Neville Longbottom had very strong memories of Bellatrix Lestrange, between the pictures he'd seen of her and the instant hatred he'd felt, to the few meetings they'd had before she died. He loved Molly Weasley forever for having finished off the woman. Neville also had one very strong memory of Rudolphus: the one at his trial.

_There had been many trials for previous Death Eaters. A couple had been more surprising than others. Neville hadn't gone to all of them. He'd gone to a lot of them. He'd been at the trial for the Malfoys where Harry spoke in their—at least Narcissa's and,__by extension, Lucius's and Draco's—favor. Lucius had been sentenced to finish a short stint in Azkaban but Draco had been let off completely, given the circumstances. _

_Neville had been there for Harry at that trial. He'd been there for Harry when he'd made the decision to speak for the Malfoys. Now Harry was there for him. They sat in the tribunal room, waiting for Rudolphus Lestrange to be brought in. Neville had known Harry knew about what happened to his parents, but during a very quiet conversation before they'd entered the tribunal room, Neville found out just how much Harry knew. It had been shocking to hear about the pensieve memory of the Lestrange's first trial. It had also been a shock to realize that Harry had known and hadn't told anyone. _

_Neville was never ashamed of his parents. Like the rest of his family he was very proud, but he'd never wanted the sympathy. Harry wasn't offering sympathy, though; he was offering a very real understanding, in a way that few other people would be able. It was that understanding that brought him to sit with Neville during this trial. _

_Rudolphus Lestrange was brought in by armed wizards. For a man whose freedom was about to be gone for a second time, he seemed surprisingly serene. He was heavily, magically restrained to the chair on the center of the floor, but he didn't seem to care. The clerk started to read the charges against the man, but Neville tuned them out. He already knew the charges. Now, instead, he focused on the man who'd helped to torture his parents into insanity. _

_Neville had never paid as much as much attention to Rudolphus Lestrange; he knew his face and profile as well as he knew Bellatrix's, but Rudolphus had just never stood out at much. Neville had always imagined the man to be as crazy as his wife, just maybe a little less loud about it. Instead he was perfectly calm__and collected, like nothing in the world could touch him. Bellatrix was much more theatrical. Neville had pinned a lot of his hatred on her because it was hard to see anyone but her when she was in the room, but that same__hatred boiled up in Neville now__as he looked at Rudolphus. Neville had a natural dislike of suffering, but the man didn't seem at all affected by anything. _

"_How do you plead to the charges as they have been brought against you?" Kinsley Shacklebolt asked in his deep baritone. The ministry was still in such a mess after Voldemort's control that the current Minister of Magic was doing a lot more than was normally expected, including helping out with the trails. _

"_I am guilty of every crime you have charged me with, Minister," Rudolphus Lestrange said calmly, with a wicked kind of smile on his face. A quiet murmur spread through the audience in the tribunal room, and then it started to grow. They had some confessions, but those were mostly on plea bargains that included information on other Death Eaters. Lestrange had simply confessed to everything on no incentive to do so._

"_Why did you do those things?" someone asked. Neville wasn't sure who it was, but they'd asked what everyone was wondering. _

"_Hm… an interesting question," Rudolphus said, seeming to think for a moment before answering. "I did it because I enjoyed it. It seems that it was in my blood, like it will be in my child's."_

They'd sentenced Rudolphus to life in prison after that. Most people thought that he was crazy, especially since no one specifically knew about a Lestrange child. Neville hadn't followed the story much after that, secure in the knowledge that the last living person who'd tortured his parents was permanently behind bars. Now he considered that it would have been better to look into then, instead of getting the nasty shock when he saw the name "Lestrange, Tacita" on his role sheet for the new ear.

"You act like there's something you could have done about it," Neville said to himself. Well, there _was_ something he could have done; he could have strangled the child in its cradle. The fact that the idea alone came to his mind made him shiver. If at all possible, he hoped to never have such a thought again. He didn't believe that anyone was evil from birth, at least he'd always sincerely hoped not.

A part of him was telling him very loudly that the girl hadn't done anything yet, aside from eat dinner and be sorted into Hufflepuff. She hadn't even been sorted into Slytherin like her parents. At the same time, the small eleven-year-old girl had her mother's unruly black hair, and her father's steady brown eyes. Neville imagined that aside from the eyes, Bellatrix had probably looked very much the same way at eleven.

"_Hm… an interesting question," Rudolphus said, seeming to think for a moment before answering. "I did it because I enjoyed it. It seems that it was in my blood, like it will be in my child's."_

That's what Rudolphus had said. There was no doubt of his wife's insanity, and his sanity was probably tenuous at best. Tacita Lestrange was the child of two very unhinged, very violent, very sadistic Death Eaters. Hermione still had the scars from where Bellatrix had tortured her. Bellatrix had killed Harry's godfather. Bellatrix and Rudolphus had held Frank Longbottom held down while they used the Cruciatus Curse on his wife until she'd lost her mind. Then they gave him they same treatment when they found that he knew nothing after all. Tactita Lestrange was the child of both of those sins against humanity.

And he was her head of house. It was his job to make sure she followed the rules and stayed in line. It was his job to be there if she needed assistance or guidance. He would be advising her future career path. It was an interesting, yet heavy burden to have that job for any one student; he had it for about 150. Tactita Lestrange was just one student. She was just one eleven-year-old girl, who had so far done nothing wrong except be born a Lestrange. He would watch her closely, because of the resemblance to her parents, and one of the few things Neville had ever heard Rudolphus Lestrange say. Yes, it would be a good idea to keep an eye on her.

* * *

_How could you be in Hufflepuff? Aside from a few blood traitors, the most noble house of Black, your mother's family, has been almost entirely Slytherin, and there's never been a Lestrange in Hufflepuff in the history of the family. You've brought shame on the name of your dead father and mother!_

_It's all your father's fault for sending you to a muggle school. I knew it was a bad idea. If he'd only let me access some of your vault I could have gotten you into a proper primary school for wizarding children! What was Rudolphus thinking when he sent you there? He must have been out of his mind. I blame Azkaban, he was never right after he went there. The second time just pushed him over the edge…_

Tacita was fairly certain that the response letter she would get from Aunt Vega would be something like that. Whenever she did something her Aunt considered odd, it was always the same. "You're a shame on your parents' names… you're a shame on your lineage… what was your father thinking sending you to a Muggle school...? it must have been Azkaban what done him in." Tacita had heard the same lines most of her life. It only got worse as she got older, and her primary school started teaching more about science. Her Aunt had fallen to her knees and wept when Tacita said she wanted to be a scientist.

"_A scientist, a Muggle profession? How could the product of two of the purest lines in wizard history want to undertake a Muggle profession?" her aunt wept bitterly. "How have I raised her wrong that she'd want to do such a thing?"_

Tacita never brought it up again. She couldn't explain that it came from her father telling her about genetics, or that she'd stolen a book from a Muggle library on genetics, though the language was far above her (because, of course, the Lestrange family was above theft, Muggles, and science), or that her father's picture was wedged in between the pages of that book. Her aunt didn't know she had it, and Tacita planned to keep it that way, especially after the heart attack she was going to give her with her current news.

She couldn't explain it, but she'd always gotten the most perverse glee out of making her Aunt Vega upset. On one hand, she deeply hated upsetting her aunt, and she hated being fussed at, and she hated it even more when her aunt cried. On the other hand, she liked making her aunt angry, and she enjoyed her aunt fussing at her. She'd never mentioned wanting to be a scientist again because when her aunt had sobbed like that, Tacita had never felt so happy in her entire life, and that frightened her.

She couldn't help but be happy to have broken the tradition, to not be like her parents, and to make her aunt really upset all in one go. She didn't understand why. She'd heard about her parents all her life, but she'd never gotten a real clear picture. She distinctly remembered her father from her memory because she thought on it so often that she couldn't lose very much of it. Even that memory did not give her a clear understanding of Rudolphus. Her Aunt Vega alternated talking about him in a reverent tone, and cursing his name for things he'd done. Her understanding of her mother was even worse, because Aunt Vega seemed to want to tell her nice things about her mother, but felt held back by the truth. Whenever Tacita heard anything about her parents from any other witches and wizards, they seemed to hate and fear her parents. The word insane got batted around a lot. Even Aunt Vega couldn't seem to deny her mother's poor grasp on reality. It made Tacita wonder what her real parents were like.

None of her thoughts that night were very cheerful. She'd very quietly penned the note to her Aunt, using one of the ball point pens she vehemently preferred to messy quills. She'd have to wait until the morning to send it. Unlike her parents, whom Tacita discovered once she went to get supplies for school had been rich, Vega Lestrange did not have that much money. According to her Aunt, Uncle Rabastan had never been good with money, and Vega never had a good inheritance to begin with. Yet her aunt and purchased a huge barn owl for her for being accepted to Hogwarts. Tacita named him Gandalf to annoy her Aunt. Tacita was certain she could send her letter in the morning.

A part of her wondered, as she folded up her envelope and sealed it, why it had been so important to finish the letter that night instead of waiting until the next day when she wasn't so exhausted. She didn't ponder that mystery for very long, as a fresh wave of sleep washed over her, giving her only enough time to pull the gaudy yellow curtains closed and curl up on her warm blankets before she was dragged under into a deep, peaceful slumber.


	4. Chapter 3

"_Good work, Ms. Lestrange," Professor Flitwick said when she correctly answered his question. _

"_It's not Lestrange," Tacita said softly._

"_What was that my dear?" the short wizard asked kindly._

"_It's not Lestrange," Tacita said. "It's pronounced Le-stron-je. It's French," she corrected._

Okay, so maybe correcting the professor like that wasn't the very best idea she'd ever had, but it was her name! Lestrange was French, and the English always seemed to love to jump on French pronunciations. It wasn't Le Strange, it was Lestrange, and she didn't like people saying it wrong, especially when it wasn't that difficult to pronounce it properly.

The fallout from her correction had been… interesting. She now had other students asking her if she was proud of her family background. She was, at best, disinterested in her parents, especially her mother. At worst she disapproved, but she was generally ambivalent to the whole thing. It was before her time, and her parents had been adults. She couldn't have made them do anything. But when they continued to tease herabout her family, she finally got up and snapped that she was very proud of her pureblood heritage and her family.

No one would talk to her after that. If she'd been in Slytherin…maybe, but she wasn't and, because she wasn't, the Slytherins sort of shunned her. Well, maybe that wasn't all it. Slytherin house had become a lot more diverse over the years, and more Muggleborns were accepted, and she'd openly declared that she was proud of her heritage; her father had been one of the first Death Eaters, and her mother had been one of Voldemort's most loyal servants.

Her own housemates didn't want to talk to her, it didn't help that her head of house didn't seem to like her either. In their very first class, he'd avoided picking her when she raised her hand. When he finally did call on her (only because there was no one else), he'd berated the part of her answer that she didn't get right. And it just never got better after that.

The only teacher who seemed to genuinely like her was Professor Slughorn, probably the oldest member of the staff, outside of Professor Binns. He'd taken a liking to her because she seemed so natural in Potions. He'd go on about how her father was very much the same, and would talk about how it was too bad he hadn't taken up Potions study after leaving school, or he might have turned out different. Professor Slughorn was tactless, but sincere with his praise. He seemed wary of her sometimes, but he was never unkind.

It was his kindness that kept her from telling him why she really liked Potions: because it seemed similar to the chemistry classes she'd seen at the Muggle secondary school that was attached to her primary. Her interest in Potions and her interest in Herbology both stemmed from her interest in Muggle science; but she hadn't told anyone this.

She rather thought that she'd brought it all on herself. She couldn't even talk to her Aunt Vega, as after her very delightful Howler (_"YOU'RE A SHAME TO THE NAME OF YOUR PARENTS AND THE NAME OF YOUR FAMILY! HOW COULD YOU BE IN HUFFLEPUFF, SUCH A RIDICULOUSLY WEAK HOUSE! IF YOU WEREN'T GOING TO BE IN SLYTHERIN YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST GONE INTO RAVENCLAW! BUT YOU WERE SORTED INTO THE MOST USELESS HOUSE! I AM ABSOLUTELY ASHAMED OF YOU!" etc._) she'd sent one letter to her Aunt asking for guidance. Tacita'd had friends, even if they were Muggles, in her old school, but now she didn't have anyone. Her aunt had sent back a very short response about how she'd have made friends if she were in Slytherin.

Tacita had neither sent nor received any letters from her aunt after that.

Over amonth passed of isolated loneliness, where even going to the cheerful common room seemed impossible. She would spend all the time she could either in the library, or in Professor Slughorn's class, listening to him tell stories, or watching him work potions; she'd started going to his remedial potions just for an excuse not to go back to her room. Watching older students work on potions they were struggling with was very informative in a way she hadn't expected, though. A part of her was very excited to get to higher years, just to be able to try the potions she was seeing in the remedial classes.

It was on one of those nights leaving remedial potions that she was hurrying to get back to the common room. She'd sat in the back for a remedial potions class for fifth-years, all of whom had later curfews than she did. She'd been watching them make an incredibly complex potion—Strengthening Solution—that was standard for fifth-years. She'd been wondering if Professor Slughorn would let her try to make it, if she asked him. She'd wondered for so long that the fifth-year students were packing up to leave; she realized that she was over an hour late for bed and started hurrying down to her common room.

Thankfully, the Hufflepuff common room was on the same level as the Potions classroom, even if it was on the other side of the school. There weren't any stairs to climb; it was just a straight walk. She walked quickly (not running, afraid of drawing attention to herself), toward her dorm. The dungeon levels were the ones that Professor Longbottom and Professor Slughorn patrolled. Professor Slughorn was still in his room, but even if he was the one to catch her, he'd probably just escort her to bed. Professor Longbottom, on the other hand, clearly disliked her and would probably give her detention or even take points away…and then everyone would hate her more.

The more she considered the consequences of getting caught, the more upset she got; she had completely worked herself up into a tizzy by the time she arrived at the entrance to her house. She knew she absolutely had to go in, but just stood there staring at it, unable to bring herself to go inside. No one liked her. She'd been there for a month-and-a-half, and almost no one would speak to her. In her own house, they either gave her odd looks or ignored her. They were supposed to be the kind and fair house…which was apparently true for everyone except the children of Death Eaters.

"What are you doing out in the corridors?" came a strict but kindly voice from behind her. Tacita turned around and immediately burst into tears. It was the headmistress; she was going to be in so much trouble. It was one thing to be caught being out of bounds at night by a teacher, but being taken to the headmistress was only for severe cases of rule-breaking. Surely being caught out of bed by the headmistress would incur similar consequences.

Professor Sprout was completely caught off guard by a student bursting into tears. "There now, don't cry," she said, producing a handkerchief and handing it to the small eleven-year-old, but her words and actions didn't seem to help as the girl merely continued to cry. "How about we go to my office for some tea and a talk?" she asked, starting to guide the girl up to her office.

Tacita continued to cry until they arrived at the stone gargoyle. She didn't cry very much, but when she did, it was very loud, very messy, and very short. She wiped her eyes furiously with the handkerchief, but couldn't stop trembling. She was afraid of what would happen now. She didn't even notice when the stone gargoyle leapt aside until she was being guided up the stairs to the headmistress's office. Once inside, she was momentarily distracted from her distress.

Professor Sprout's office was wonderful. There were shelves filled with books, mostly on plants, but an entire bookcase was devoted to novels. Outside of the books there were an assortment of odd instruments that seemed like old artifacts from ancient gardeners or farmers. Tacita's eyes moved past the tools to the different plants in the room. She could tell they were made for offices, as they seemed to be thriving, even with the less-than-hospitable light that would come from the windows. A particularly interesting plant seemed to be producing a very soothing jazz instrumental.

"You like it? It's a type of Phonoflora," Professor Sprout said, making Tacita jump. She hadn't even noticed the short woman come up behind her. "Phonofloras are easy to grow in the right conditions, and thrive very well once they've matured in about any given environment. This one has been raised under a Jazz club. Terribly expensive, so best not touch," the Professor explained, and Tacita nodded numbly. "Do you like plants?"

Tacita nodded again. "Yes, I do," she said softly.

"How about we sit down? The tea should be ready," Professor Sprout said, guiding Tacita to the desk, where a tea pot was pouring tea into two cups. "Please sit," she said, indicating the chair on the other side of the desk as she moved to her own chair. Pomona Sprout had been headmistress since Minerva McGonagall had retired. Professor Sprout was still short and plump as ever, but her hair had more grey, her face had more wrinkles, and her robes and nails carried considerably less dirt. "It's okay, you can drink," she said, seeing the student eyeing the tea.

"Thank you, Headmistress," Tacita said softly, taking a sip of her tea.

"Now, would you like to talk about why you were out of bed after hours, Ms. Lestrange?" Professor Sprout asked kindly, pronouncing the name correctly.

Tacita's body jumped in a small, silent sob. She wasn't going to start crying again, but the reminder that she was in trouble, and of her current circumstances, brought her fear back all over again.

"We'll come back to it," Professor Sprout said, sensing the girl's distress. "Are you enjoying school so far?" Again, this elicited a small sob from the girl, so Professor Sprout changed topics again. "Do you have a favorite subject?"

"P-Potions," Tacita said shakily. "Professor Slughorn's very nice," she said softly.

"You seemed to be interested in my plants. Do you like Herbology?" the Headmistress coaxed.

"I like studying plants," Tacita said, not wanting to lie, and not wanting to say anything bad about her teacher.

"But you don't like the class?" Professor Sprout pushed.

Tacita's mouth went dry and she looked up at the Headmistress, not sure what to say. Then it all came spilling out. "Nobody likes me," she said, feeling her tears come back; she hadn't expected them, but a fresh wave of emotion hit her all over again, and she couldn't help it. "I don't care about my family history at all, but what else could I say but that I'm proud when they kept teasing me about it?" she wailed. "Now they think I'm evil, and no one will talk to me!" They'd talked to her before, been kind of nice…but now she was all alone in a place she didn't know, with strangers who didn't like her.

"Oh, dear," Professor Sprout said, not having expected such an outburst. She was about to ask about her family when she remember the Howler. "Have you tried to talk to your Head of House about this?" she asked, but Tacita just shook her head violently. "Why not?"

"Professor Longbottom won't help," she said quietly. It would hurt too much to ask and not be helped…and she was so sure he wasn't going to help her.

"Of course he will," Professor Sprout said, but Tacita just shook her head.

"No, he won't," she said quietly, her tears settling down again. She hoped to keep them down for good this time.

Professor Sprout sighed and tried something different. "Why were you out of bed after curfew?"

"Professor Slughorn lets me stay and as questions a lot… he's let me stay in his Remedial Potions class…and I forgot to leave tonight until it was after curfew and the fifth-years were packing up," she said.

"You really like Potions, don't you?" the professor asked.

"I like science," Tacita said miserably. She seemed to realize what she said and looked panicked. "Please don't tell anybody!" she begged.

"I won't, I won't," the Headmistress said in a soothing tone before standing up. "There there, it's okay. Now, the next time you accidentally forget to leave on time, you ask Professor Slughorn for a note, or to escort you to the dorms," she said. "Now, I'll take you back to bed," she said. "Come on."

Tacita got up, still shaking a bit. "Please don't take away points," she said quickly. "Everyone will hate me even worse if I lose points," she said.

"No, dear, I won't take away points, and I won't give you a detention. I'll talk to Professor Slughorn to be sure…but you've had a hard evening, and I believe you're telling the truth," she said as she guided the girl back down to her dormitory. The naked relief on the girl's face hurt.

* * *

"You asked to see me, Professor?" Neville Longbottom asked as he stepped into the Headmistress's office. One of the old headmasters had gone to find him. For the life of him, Neville couldn't remember his name. He'd never say that to the man, all the paintings were very sensitive about being forgotten. He only could remember Dippet, Dumbledore, and Snape. McGonagall would get a painting after she died, but at the moment there wasn't one for her, or he'd have remembered hers as well.

"Yes Neville, please do come in… and how many times have I asked you to call me Pomona?" she asked with a kind smile.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said, shutting the door behind him and stepping in. He sat in the seat across from the headmistress's, feeling like a student all over again. His eyes went to the half-drunk cup of tea in front of him. "Have you had guests this evening, Professor?" he asked.

"Hm—What? Oh, yes." She waved her wand; the cups, tray, and all their contents vanished. "Neville, I just had a meeting with a very distraught student from your house. She seems to think that she can't come to you for help," she said. "Is this true?"

"Of course not," Neville said quickly. He couldn't think of any student who he wouldn't help if they came to him.

"It was Tacita Lestrange," Pomona Sprout said.

"Oh," Neville responded. That was a little different. He was sure he would help her, but he wasn't sure how much he would help her.

"Neville, the girl burst into tears when I found her in the hall, and then again in my office. She begged me not to take points off, because everyone would hate her worse." She eyed him, and Neville had the most uncomfortable memory for his first year surface in his mind. He had been lost coming back from the library, having fallen asleep there. When Professor Sprout caught him, he'd burst into tears, afraid that people would hate him if he lost any more points for his house.

"Professor—" Neville started, but was cut off.

"I know about your problem, and it's not that I'm unsympathetic...but she's eleven, and you're an adult. You need to suck it up. So far, has she shown any indication of being anything like her parents?" she asked.

Neville thought about it. She was very smart, and she'd seemed rather cold, but the idea of her bursting into tears was unsettling. It was hard sometimes in class to not see her as Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter, but Professor Sprout was right…Tacita Lestrange was an eleven-year-old girl, one he'd never seen friendly with anyone, or laughing with anyone, because he had watched closely. He'd assumed she was a loner…but it occurred to him now that maybe it wasn't exactly a self-induced isolation.

"You're right, Professor Sprout. I'll talk to her," he said.

Professor Sprout smiled. "I know you will, Neville."

* * *

A/N: Hello all. I have just a few notes.

First, yes, I know how Lestrange is pronounced in the movies, but it is French, and the English have a way of purposefully stepping on French names (see Jacques from "As You Like It".)

Second, Tacita is eleven at this point. Having no friends, no family, and no support is stressful enough as an adult, but it's even worse at eleven. Things will pick up a bit more later.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are very much loved. :D


	5. Chapter 4

**(A/N: I try not to use these much, but I'm a bit sick, and I want to thank the only thing getting me up to post the next chapter: "Like it's Quidditch". That's literally the only thing. Well, that and someone posted 4 reviews recently. Anyway, thanks for the R&Rs, I love you all.)**

* * *

Neville Longbottom hugged his wife. He indulged for a moment in the enjoyment of her curves. Hannah had never been a thin girl, but while her waist was thicker, so were her curves, and Neville liked her that way. To be fair, he'd never really seemed to lose his baby fat himself. He'd been self-conscious about it, until Hannah knocked a bit of sense into him. They just fit together properly.

"You're late," Hanna Longbottom said, kissing her husband's cheek. They'd already gotten the "I missed you" hugs and kisses out of the way.

"I had a meeting with a student," Neville said, carefully pulling out of his wife's hug and going to get a drink.

"Anyone in particular?" she asked. Neville had to smile a little; she knew him too well.

"The only one that would leave me pacing for an hour afterward," Neville said.

"Ah, the Lestrange child, then," Hannah said, moving around her husband to get him the drink. He was good with Herbology and he'd been a good Auror, but he'd never understood the subtle art of mixology. She did. Whenever she could, Hannah would be sure to fix a drink for him instead of letting him do it. Neville Longbottom wasn't the clumsy youth he'd once been, but he was never as coordinated as his friend Harry Potter, especially when it came to things that weren't plants or spells.

"_Lestrange," _Neville corrected. "It's apparently very important to her to pronounce it correctly," he said. Not that he blamed her, names were important. He'd never been able to escape the teasing of having the name "Longbottom" when he was a kid.

"I see," Hannah said, handing her husband his drink and pushing him back onto the bed before sitting next to him. "So, why don't you tell me?" she asked. She loved Neville, but she'd figured out long before they were married that the only way to get anything out of him was to ask directly, especially if he was feeling upset.

Neville sipped his drink, considering where to start. "You know I wrote you about my chat with Professor Sprout," he said, glancing over to see Hannah nodding along. "So, I decided the best thing would be to take the professor's advice, and talk to her."

_He shifted nervously as he waited for class to end. He'd wandered around the tables, watching his students work. There were a couple who had a very natural way with the plants, understanding how best to harvest the seeds. Others had little understanding, charging in headfirst and not working with the plants. His eyes trailed to Tacita Lestrange, and Neville had a very strong memory of Hermione Weasley working much the same way with the same plant in her first year. Hermione hadn't been a natural in any of her subjects. She'd been very clever and studied hard. She could have easily skated by on her intelligence, but she worked hard for her grades. Hermione never was a natural with plants like he'd been. Instead, her ease with the plants came from a lot of knowledge and a lot of practice. _

_Tacita Lestrange didn't have the natural ease that a couple of his students had, but she didn't get bitten or smacked with vines. He imagined that if he were to stand right behind her, she wouldn't notice until he said her name very loudly. It occurred to him that if she were any other person, she would be the ideal student. Students who did the best were often not the smartest, but the hardest workers. Ravenclaws would do amazing work in subjects they were interested in, and would only do okay on everything else. Hufflepuffs were more likely to have decent grades on everything, but remember more than just one or two subjects. Hard-working students were what he preferred, even to the students who were inclined toward Herbology. He'd only gotten as good with the plants as he did because it was the only thing he was any good at, and he'd needed to be good at something. If he'd been good with Transfiguration, he'd probably have worked every bit as hard in that subject. _

_Neville checked the clock and strode back to the front of the table. "All right, class is over, bring your seeds to the front and leave your plants on your desks. Ms. Lestrange, would you mind staying after a moment so I can speak with you?" he asked. It occurred to him too late that maybe calling her out like that wasn't the best idea. He saw her shoulders slump and heard a giggle from someone. It reminded him that she was only eleven, something he _needed_ reminding of at that moment. _

_He waited until the last straggler was gone before looking down at the girl. She did look a lot like her mother, at least the old picture he'd seen of her in old Hogwarts yearbooks, but she didn't have the same strong and wicked look. The little girl standing in front of him looked…lonely, and sad, two things he could identify with. _

"_Don't worry, you're not in trouble," Neville said gently, leaning against one of the tables. "I spoke with Professor Sprout last night, she told me that she caught you out of bed last night," he said, quickly holding up a hand to stop her from speaking. "You're not in trouble," he said again. "Professor Sprout told me that you don't think you can talk to me," he said._

_Tacita hung her head. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said softly._

"_It's alright," Neville said, with a bit more force behind the words. "I just want you to know that you can come to me if you have a problem. I'm your Head of House. I'm here to help any member of Hufflepuff House if they're having problems. You're a Hufflepuff; that means I'll be here for you, no matter what." She was an eleven-year-old girl, and he was adult, and he needed to act like it. _

"_Yes, Professor," the girl said quietly, looking at him like she wasn't sure if he was actually telling the truth. _

"_Ms. Lestrange, why don't we set up a meeting? I have an hour free on Friday. Come by at about four and we'll talk, okay?" he asked. It surprised him that her smile looked so normal, and realized that it really shouldn't have. _

"So, you set up a meeting on Friday," Hannah pressed. "Is there a reason for all the description?" she asked.

"When I went to the meeting, I was feeling like she was more like me at that age than I wanted to admit. Parents gone, living with a relative, and generally unpopular. It also finally sunk in that she was eleven. I thought that I'd feel better after the meeting, like my problem would just be cured," he said, sounding fairly exasperated.

"Oh, Nev, you really thought that?" Hannah asked, slipping her arm around her husband and resting her head on his shoulder.

"I never said I was the smartest man in the room," Neville said with a twinge of bitterness as he finished off his drink. He sat in silence, watching Hannah fix him another. She was really damned good at her work. She'd excelled in Herbology because of the physical work. Some people just did better when they worked with their hands, and Hannah was one of them.

"Alright, so what did happen at the meeting?" Hannah asked, sitting back down and handing Neville his second drink.

_Neville sat back in his office. Technically, his office was on the same level as Slughorn's, but he had a small window he normally kept open to let in the light. His office was fairly bare. The only plants he could grow had to not need a lot of sun light. He kept a couple, along with a stash of seeds in his closet, and the paperwork he needed. On his desk, the only decoration was a picture frame with Hannah and his two daughters. _

_He planned to leave during dinner so that he could get home in time to see his wife and kids. The fact that it was now under an hour before he planned to leave meant he was having trouble sitting still. He was about to get up and pace when there was a tentative knock on the door. "Come in."_

_Tacita Lestrange stepped in, quietly shutting the door behind her and walking to her desk. "I'm sorry I'm late, Professor."_

"_It's okay, just sit down," Professor Longbottom said, indicating the chair across from his desk. He watched her sit down with a flourish that he imagined would have been both very natural and more theatrical for Bellatrix. He closed his eyes for a moment, reminding himself that Tacita Lestrange was eleven, and not her mother._

"_Professor, is something wrong?" the girl asked. In a few years her voice would grow into the very lovely candor her mother's had, though now it seemed like the baby voice Bellatrix used to mock people. _

"_No, nothing's wrong. Why don't you tell me how you've been doing so far in school?" he said. He knew already, but it was better to let her say. _

"_Um, well," the girl sat very still, looking him straight in the eyes. He noticed that she normally did that, and it was unnerving. Bellatrix never did anything like that, but he had a very clear recollection of Rudolphus Lestrange looking directly into Kingsley Shacklebolt's eyes when addressing him. "I'm doing okay in classes…except History of Magic," she said. "Professor Longbottom, why is Professor Binns so boring? My old history classes were interesting, even when we were memorizing kings."_

"_You've had history classes before?" Professor Longbottom asked. He knew that a lot of pureblood families would send their children to Wizarding Primaries until they turned eleven. He'd been taught by his Gran before coming to school. _

"_Yes, at the Muggle school," Tacita said. _

_Neville's eyes opened a bit wider. "You went to a Muggle school? I thought the Lestrange family was very wealthy. You didn't go to a Wizarding Primary?" _

_Tacita scowled. "That's what my aunt says," she dropped her voice and octave to imitated her aunt, though all it really did was make her sound more like her deceased mother. "Why did your father send you to a Muggle school? He could have afforded to send you to the best Wizard school, but he sent you to a Muggle school. It must have been Azkaban, I'm sure. Why else would such a good pureblood wizard send his daughter to a Muggle school?"_

_Neville swallowed and shook his head. There were so many thoughts going through his head. Most of them along the lines of, why would her aunt be so openly for pureblood supremacy? Instead, he decided on a more…neutral topic. "Did you like your old school?" _

"_It was interesting," Tacita said, with a very thoughtful, but decidedly neutral expression. "And it had Air Conditioning. Aunt Vega said that was for Muggles, but she didn't know how to work the climate control spells in her house, so it was always too cold in winter, and too hot in summer," Tacita said. "And the sciences classes were interesting, like history. There are more Muggles than Wizards, right? So why do we only learn about Wizard History and not Muggle History too? A lot of the dates on Grindlewald's reign line up with World War II," she said, remembering something she'd been thinking of for a while. "Why isn't there someone who studies the relation between Muggle History and Wizard History?" _

_Neville was surprised by the amount of jumps she could make. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she were proposing muggle supremacy. "Why don't you do that, then?" he asked. "Careers can be made of filling a need for something that hasn't been done before," he suggested._

"_No, I don't think so," Tacita said. "I don't like Wizard History. So far, it seems boring and close-minded," she said. _

"_Well, what do you like?" Professor Longbottom asked, biting down a smile. He was sure her parents would be rolling over in their graves if they could hear her. _

"_I like Potions," Tacita said. That made Neville frown; Potions, really?_

"_Why Potions?" Neville asked._

"_Professor Slughorn is very kind, and he lets me study ahead," she said, thoughtful. For a moment he thought she was going to add something else, but she only remained silent. _

"_Ms. Lestrange," Professor Longbottom said suddenly, tired of simply wandering around the subject. "It has been brought to my attention that you're having trouble with your classmates. Would you like to tell me about it?"_

"_No one likes me," Tacita said, and for a moment Neville had a very specific memory from when he was a first year._

"But no one likes me, Professor Sprout," he'd said.

_Neville shook his head, forcefully throwing himself out of the memory. "I'm sure that's not true," he said._

"_No, no one likes me, not anyone in my class, I mean," she said. "Professor Slughorn likes me because he thinks I'm going to have powerful magic… but no one else likes me. They all think I'm going to take after my parents."_

"_Are you?" he asked, not quite able to stop himself. There was a long moment of silence, and Neville thought that he'd insulted her. _

"_Maybe," Tacita finally responded. "My father told me that inbreeding causes illness, so maybe I'll get sick more," she said. "But…I don't know. Professor, can I tell you something?" she asked._

"_Of course," Neville responded quickly._

"_I don't care about my parents. I mean, my mother died in a duel with a housewitch, right? So that must mean she wasn't as strong as everyone says she was…and my father did a lot of really odd things. But I don't know them at all. I don't care what they did, I don't care about them at all."_

"So, that's what's gotten you all upset?" Hannah asked. "Because she doesn't care about her parents?"

"Harry didn't even know his parents at all, he'd never seen them since he was a baby, and he cared a lot," Neville said, finishing her second drink.

"I could argue with you on that point, but I'm certain that's not what the problem is," Hannah said. "So, why don't you stop dancing around it and get to the real problem."

"Hannah, she doesn't care about her parents… about what they did…it's like all the people they killed mean nothing to her. My parents, Tonks, Harry's godfather? None of those people matter," he said, suddenly jumping up and starting to pace.

"Neville… she's eleven, and all of those things happened before she was born," Hannah said gently.

"I know Hannah, I know, but it just…seems wrong. She doesn't know or care about the pain her family caused. Hannah, they're dead, but what they did, the pain they caused, it still lives on…and she doesn't care. She doesn't even feel bad that they're dead…she feels nothing toward them at all. I could have accepted it better if she'd felt bad about her parents…but she just doesn't care…it's so much like…Bellatrix Lestrange didn't care what happened to the people around her either." Neville looked over at his wife, trying to make her not think he was so crazy.

Hannah stood up and walked over to him. "Neville Longbottom, you are a very fine man, and I love you. I know that the Lestrange family has hurt you a lot, but you need to be careful with this girl. She's just a child, and right now there's still the chance that she might not turn out like them. You're also responsible for her, so you can't just be mean to her because she might turn out—"

"I _know,_ Hannah," Neville cut her off. He'd heard it from Professor Sprout already; he didn't need it from his wife, too. "I know, I'm the adult, I have power over her, and I can't just abuse it because I don't like her. It's too…Snape-ish for me to do," he said, sounding every bit as distressed as he was. Harry'd forgiven Snape for what he'd done; one of his sons was even named after the old headmaster, but Neville hadn't been so easily able to forgive the abuse he'd suffered under the man.

"I know, Neville," Hannah said. "It's why I married you. You're a good man, and you'll figure out what to do, and I'll be here to remind you whenever you forget," she said. "Now, I think you've worried about this enough for one night. Now, it's late. Alice and Augusta are already asleep. It's time for bed. Tomorrow you can play with the girls, and you can worry about this again on Monday. We made a deal to leave out things outside when we're together on weekends," she pointed out. "You've worried about this for a while, and it's time for a vacation from worry, got it?"

Neville smiled and pulled his wife into a kiss. "You're the boss," he said, with warmth in his voice.

"You better believe it." Hannah had a smirk on her lips that Neville had always liked.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Tacita sat curled up in the library. She'd gotten up before any of the rest of her dormmates, pulled on her robes, grabbed her big genetics book, and headed quietly down to breakfast, grabbing a couple of rolls before sneaking off to the library. She quietly bypassed Madame Pince. The young man who was helping the older woman was slated to take over in a few years. Pincer, as the students called him when no one was around to hear, had every bit of the legendary eagle eye that Madame Pince had for the protection of her books. Luckily, Pincer wasn't up that early, so Tacita found her way to a quiet back corner and began eating her breakfast and trying to understand her giant book.

She quickly gave up on understanding the text. She'd have to steal a dictionary or something over one of the breaks. Instead she pulled out the picture of her and her father. She only had memories of him looking down at her, with the blankest expression, an expression very like her own. But in the moving picture, Rudolphus Lestrange would smile a little every now and then. Tacita found herself waiting for that little smile, and wondering about the man in the picture.

Her meeting with Professor Longbottom had been better than she thought, but he still gave her odd looks, the way other people would when they knew who she was. She'd heard a lot of stories of her mother's exploits, but little was known to Tacita about the man in the picture. He had a lot of money, yet he chose to send her to a Muggle school. He and his wife were in Voldemort's inner circle, but he'd spoken of Muggle concepts like inbreeding and genetics. Not for the first time, Tacita wished she could ask him a few questions.

"Hey, whatcha lookin at?" came a voice from behind her. Tacita jumped and slammed her book shut, turning around to see a sandy-haired boy wearing Hufflepuff robes.

"What do you want?" Tacita asked, glaring at the boy who'd interrupted her train of thought.

"Easy, easy," the boy said with a friendly smile. "My name's Granville, Granville Jorkins," he said.

"I know who you are," Tacita said. "You spend half your time in the common room talking about how your older brother's on the Quidditch team, but only if he can get his act together in Potions. The other half of the time you spend bragging about your little sister," she said.

"And I know who _you_ are," Granville said, pulling out the chair next to her and plopping down in it. "You're Tacita Lestrange, who spends all her time either reading, or in the Potions classroom with Slughorn. Grimwold says that you're already getting the potions he's struggling with," he said with a big smile.

"You still haven't told me what you want," Tacita said, reaching out for her textbook.

"Hey, what's this?" Granville asked, grabbing up the book faster than Tacita, even given the warning. "Concepts of Genetics," the boy read aloud. He had a very naturally loud tone.

"Shhh!" Tacita snatched her book away. "Not so loud," she hissed.

"What's genetics, Tacita?" Granville asked.

"It's the study of the building blocks of a life," she said. "And who said you could call me by my first name?"

"Would you prefer if I call you Lestrange?" Granville asked with a smile, getting her name right.

"No," Tacita said. "Look, will you just tell me why you're bugging me?"

"Geez, no need to be so snippy. I'm hear cause I want to talk to ya," Granville said.

Tacita narrowed her eyes, mistrustful. "What for?"

"Well, I know you stay all by yourself, but Hufflepuffs are supposed to be the friendly lot, right?" he asked. "And I figured that you're a Hufflepuff, so you must got something in you that makes you like me. So then, I figured that it makes no sense for no one to like you, 'cause you're like us, and we're supposed to be the friendly lot," he said. "You understand?"

Tacita shook her head, having understood his words, but the meaning stayed just out of reach for her. "No, I have no idea what you're saying."

"I'm saying we should be friends," Granville said with a smile. "What?" he asked, seeing her eye him suspiciously.

"You just want me to help you with your homework because you're not doing well in Herbology," she said.

"Well, maybe; but you know who I am just as well as I know who you are, and you're lonely, so we should be friends," Granville said.

"I'm not going to be friends with you just because I'm lonely," Tacita said coldly, glaring at the overly cheerful boy.

"Did I say you were?" Granville asked. "Look, it ain't right you being all by yourself all the time. I've seen you in class. You're always really quiet except when you're answering a question. But you were nice before people started teasing you…so I figure you're not all bad, you're just lonely; and if you had someone to talk to, then you'd go back to being nice again," he said.

Tacita stared at him for a long moment. "You're insane," she said softly. "I should know, I'm related to enough of it," she said, sounding bitter. She stood, holding her book to her chest and glaring at Granville. "Will you just leave me alone?"

"No," he said with a smile.

"Well, why not?" she hissed quietly, not wanting to get thrown out of the library.

"Cause you're a Hufflepuff. Like I said before, you could have been in Slytherin, everyone thought you were going to be, but you got put with us. So you have to have something good about you, and I want to be around when that something comes out," he said.

Tacita stared at him again for a long while. "I asked the hat to put me in, I did it because I wanted to make my aunt angry," she said.

"So?" Granville asked.

"You just said that you thought I had something special in me because I was in Hufflepuff. The only reason I'm here is because I chose to be, it's not because I'm special," she hissed.

"Yeah, but you asked the hat to put you with us…and I don't think any of the rest of us thought of doing that. If I'd known I could have asked…well, I probably would have said Hufflepuff too, 'cause my brother's in the house, but still." Granville shrugged.

"I'm going away now," Tacita said, starting to walk away.

"Cool, I'll follow you, we can go get breakfast," Granville said, popping out of his seat and following after the other Hufflepuff.

"Why?" Tacita asked. "Why in the world do you insist on talking to me? Everyone thinks I'm evil or something. So why don't you leave me alone like everybody else?" She was feeling a little desperate for him to leave. She didn't want a friendship out of pity. She'd rather be alone.

"Because I want to be friends with you," Granville said.

"And that's it?" Tacita asked, her voice getting louder. A very audible _Shhh!_ could be heard, and Tacita winced. She lowered her voice to a whisper and looked back at Granville. "That's it?"

"Well… yeah, I mean, there are other friendships built on less. My brother's best mate is a Muggle-born. They got nothing in common, but they're really close," Granville said. "Look, I want to be your friend and I'm just going to keep following you until you let me be your friend."

"But I don't want you," Tacita exclaimed, heading out of the library before she could get shushed again.

"You haven't even tried yet," Granville said. "Look, give me a week, if you don't like me after a week then I'll leave you alone."

"You're awful sure of yourself," Tacita said.

"Yeah, it's one of my best features," Granville said, walking around her until he was walking in front of her, backwards, with that big goofy grin on his face. He managed to walk into a suit of armor, and knocked it over in the process.

Tacita's mouth split open and laughter spilled out. The whole thing was absurd, but she couldn't help herself. "Alright," she said, once she calmed down. "Alright, I'll be your friend for a week…and then we'll see how this goes," she said.

"Good," Granville said. "Now, will you help me put this back together before Filch finds this?"

"Why?" Tacita asked, but started helping him put the suit back together. "We can just blame it on Peeves. No one's around anyway," she pointed out. "What?" she asked, noticing that Granville was staring.

"You're wicked," Granville said with an appreciative smile. "I knew I made a good choice to want to be friends with you," he said.

* * *

**(A/N: Yeah, finished with this chapter. No, I didn't make Granville up. His name appears in the 7****th**** book in a Daily Prophet listing for the birth of his sister Griselda. His brother is Grimwold, and his mother and father are Primrose and Albert Jorkins. I decided to make Grimwold two years older than Tacita (making him a third year), and Griselda will start the same year as Teddy Lupin (in Tacita's third year). )**


	6. Chapter 5

**(A/N: Granville makes me very happypants! I've been reading Pottersues, good goodness, I hope I never show up on that. Reading bad things makes me want to write good things. Also, I'm starting to have dreams about these characters, which means I'm pretty absorbed. Headed off to England on the 2nd, so don't expect a lot of updates for a while.)**

* * *

Granville was curled in a chair away from the fire. Fireside seats were very popular, but the area was always crowded. It was just as easy to sit by the window. He kept flicking his gaze out the window to the snowfall. It was the first snow of the semester. They'd been having an unusually warm autumn, but finally it was starting to look normal. Christmas holidays were fast approaching. The signup sheets for break would be going up in a few days.

Supposedly, Granville should have been focusing on a particularly nasty essay due for History of Magic on Muggle fears of Wizards. It was more long than hard, at least for him. Granville thought history was interesting and easy. He was able to stay awake really well, unlike most of his classmates. In his mind, how could anything talking about people being murdered be dull? Tacita seemed to agree, but thought the teacher and the texts were particularly boring. It was the one class she was doing badly in.

He wasn't sure if it'd been his winning personality, or the fact that she needed him to pass History of Magic, but Tacita had continued to be his friend outside of the week. A lot of people thought he was crazy for sticking so close to her, including his big brother, until it became obvious that she could help him with his "little potions problem." Currently, Granville was waiting for Grimwold and Tacita to get back from third-year remedial potions. He'd planned to get the essay done on his own, but he wanted Tacita's insight on Muggles.

She'd told him many times that she didn't know everything about Muggles, but he thought her going to a Muggle school and studying Muggle history put her at a greater advantage to talk about why Muggles were afraid of Wizards. Besides, he'd promised to help her, since she'd helped him with Professor Longbottom's essay on the uses of Devil's Snare.

Granville's head shot up when he heard the common room entrance open. He'd done it every time the door had opened for the past hour, but this time the two people he wanted to see were coming through it. Grimwold was looking sour, but then he always did. Granville was small and light, but Grimwold was built big. He would probably have a lot of muscle when he got older. He had his brother's sandy brown hair, and their mother's hazel eyes.

The pair of them walked over to the seats Granville had saved, though Tacita crawled up in the window seat, preferring that particular perch. It was a lot of why Granville had gotten a seat near the one window in the common room. Tacita explained that she kind of liked being colder than was comfortable. Granville hadn't questioned it.

"You're smiling," Granville said, looking at Tacita. Tacita didn't smile, not really. She'd smile when she was really, really relieved, but otherwise she didn't. Now her lips were slightly upturned, which for her meant she was absolutely glowing with happiness. "What happened?"

"Slughorn's in love with her," Grimwold said sourly.

Tacita stuck her tongue out at Grimwold. "He's just angry because I had to twist his ear to keep him from ruining his potion," she said.

At that, Grimwold rubbed his ear. "You mean you nearly wrenched it off. I'm still two years older than you, and I can push you around if I want to," he said.

Tacita gave him a level look. "Try it," she said coldly. It didn't happen often, but sometimes the girl would slip. Sometimes she'd show a part of herself that wasn't quite… sane. Grimwold worried about it because his baby brother didn't seem to recognize it. Granville seemed to think Tacita was the best thing since the self-cleaning broom handle. Grimwold had only started spending time with his younger sibling and his "best friend" because of what he saw in the girl.

"Anyway," Granville interjected, making Tacita focus on him instead. "What's got you so happy?"

"Professor Slughorn says he'll let me try some of the second-year potions," Tacita said proudly.

"Really?" Granville asked, happy for her.

"Tell him what the conditions are," Grimwold ordered.

Tacita nodded, but winced a little. "He says I can attempt some second-year potions, under his supervision, if I'll help him with the first year remedial potions," she said.

"Oh Tasi," Granville said sympathetically. The only remedial potions Tacita didn't attend was the first-year class. The first-year class didn't technically start until halfway through the first term, and it was only for students who were really not doing well. If Granville hadn't had Tacita to help him, he'd be in there already. Tacita, though friends with him, was still not very popular in their year or their house. She was still "That Lestrange Girl."

Tacita shook her head. "I'll just have to do it, then, won't I?" she asked; she was very much afraid of teaching. She was afraid that her year-mates would hate her because she was telling them what to do. But more than anything, she wanted to start second-year potions. She'd checked out a second-year textbook from the library, and she'd kept reading it until she had a certain number of the potions memorized. She already knew the first-year book practically by heart because she'd read it so many times.

"You can do it," Granville said. "Hey, since you're teaching the big group, I suppose I can start attending the class, too," he said.

"You don't need that class," Tacita snapped. She'd worked very hard to make sure he didn't.

"Only because you explain it so I can understand. I get nervous when I'm in class. Slughorn's intimidating," Granville said.

For a moment Tacita was left speechless. "We're talking about the same Professor Slughorn, right?" she finally got out.

"I have to agree with Stumphead," Grimwold said, earning a glare from his brother for his "affectionate nickname." "Slughorn's intimidating, just not… he's not _physically_ intimidating like Hagrid. It's everybody he knows. He participated in the Battle of Hogwarts, and he knows everybody. The difference is that he likes you. I bet if you keep up being this good in Potions, in a few years he'll wrangle you into the Slug Club. Me and Granville don't stand a chance of getting in. We have no connections or super-special talent. My mother's trying to get me to impress Slughorn enough to get an invite to one of his Slug Club events."

"Then your mother's intimidating, not Professor Slughorn," Tacita said definitively, as if that settled the matter. It did for her, anyway. "But Granville, I help you out anyway, so why do you have to come to remedial potions?" she asked.

"I'm doing well on the essays," Granville said. "But I'll do better if I can get your help brewing the actual potions. Come on Tasi, it'll be good for both of us. I can be there for support," he pointed out.

Tacita frowned. "I don't need you to hold my hand," she snapped.

"I'm not saying that," Granville said. "Look, you're the only reason I'm not failing Potions _and_ Herbology. I help you with History of Magic, but that's not really a fair trade, so let me be there for you, okay?" he asked. After a moment of silence, Tacita nodded and Granville's mouth split in a grin. "Awesome!"

* * *

"It could have been worse," Granville said quietly. His normal smile was gone.

"How?" Tacita demanded softly.

"Someone could have died," Granville offered.

"Yeah, well, there's _that,"_ Tacita said bitterly.

The pair walked quietly through the halls. They'd already passed their common room and the kitchens. It was late enough that most people had somewhere to be; either a class, or the library, or detention. They needed to be heading back so they wouldn't miss curfew, but Granville wasn't going to turn Tacita around yet.

Her fast day of tutoring had gone…badly.

"Granville, is this really all because of my parents, or do I bring it on myself?" Tacita asked.

Granville chewed on his bottom lip. "A little of both, I think," he said. Tacita would rather be insulted than lied to, he knew that. "They all think you're one way, and with what happened at the beginning of the year…and how quiet you are…they don't figure they have to think past any of that," he said.

"That girl, Virginia Stumps," Tacita said.

"Yeah?" Graneville asked.

"I think I hate her," Tacita said.

"I don't blame you; she's nasty," Granville said.

_It had gone wrong from the beginning. They'd arrived early so Tacita could get instructions from Slughorn. Her job would be to wander around between the students and gently suggest fixes and try to guide them into making the potion the right way. Granville had been nervous before things even started. _

"_It's just a Wiggenweld Potion; it's easy," Tacita had told him._

"_Easy for you, maybe," Granville had muttered under his breath as the other students came in. There was a good smattering of students, Three Hufflepuffs, three Gryffindors, two Slytherins, and a Ravenclaw. None of them looked happy to see Tacita, especially when Slughorn informed them that she would be assisting them with the Wiggenweld Potion._

_No matter what Tacita had said, the potion was not easy. Granville struggled with it, badly, and Tacita kept having to monitor him. Three times, she caught him right before he made a terrible mistake. Unlike the others, to whom she didn't even want to speak, she openly berated Granville. When Slughorn left to get something from his office, leaving her in charge, she didn't even notice because she was trying to explain to Granville why the potion had to be made in a specific order._

"_Gee, you think if _I_ was her boyfriend, she'd give _me_ attention like that, too?" the Ravenclaw, Virginia Stumps, asked loudly, making the others laugh. _

"_Do you need something?" Tacita asked in her normal quiet voice. _

"_Oh, nothing," Virginia said. "I was just wondering if I had famous parents like you, if I would be Slughorn's favorite, too?" she asked._

"_That's not right," Granville defended. "Tacita works really hard on Potions. You're just jealous because you got stuck here," he said. _

_Virgina's cheeks flushed, and she glared at him before a nasty smile crossed her face. "At least _I'm_ not going to be crazy in a few years," she said._

"_What does that mean?" Tacita asked coldly. If Grimwold had been there, he would have known that provoking Tacita past that was a bad idea._

"_Exactly what its sounds like. Everyone knows insanity runs in bloodlines. With how strong it was in yours, you'll probably be using Unforgivable Curses and murdering people before you graduate," Virginia said. _

_And it all went downhill from there. _

"Are we heading somewhere?" Granville asked.

"Not really…I just didn't want to be around people right now," she said.

"Oh," Granville said.

"Don't worry, you're not people," Tacita said.

"Gee, thanks," Granville said. Tacita turned around to look at him, and he smiled, knowing she'd been teasing him. He quickened his stride to walk next to her instead of behind her. "So, was Slughorn really harsh?"

"Well, he told me that it was wrong to cast a Batbogey Hex on someone I was supposed to be teaching, and that he's taking me off the job until after break, so he can think it over," she said.

"That's not good," he said, about to look sympathetic.

"But I think he's going to let me come back after break," she added.

"Really?"

"Well, he also said that he hadn't seen a Batbogey Hex that inspired since Ginny Weasley," she added with a shrug.

"Really? You mean the one who plays Quidditch with the Hollyhead Harpies? Harry Potter's wife?" Granville asked.

"Yes, and you don't need to gush. She's not here to see it."

"But that's amazing! How do you know that spell? I mean, I _know_ it, but not well enough to _cast_ it," Granville said.

"It's my aunt's favorite. I must have seen her use it at least a dozen times or more," Tacita said. "But I was also really…angry? I don't think I could do it again, at least not that good, without a lot of practice," she admitted.

"You _were_ pretty angry…" Granville said, trailing off. "Hey, I mean, if Slughorn's going to let you back, why are you so upset?"

Tacita stopped walking and went completely silent. "You know that Gryffindor, what's his name…? Sander?" she asked.

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He had a whole unicorn's horn sitting on his desk," she responded.

"So?"

"So, the spell we were making only needed powdered unicorn's horn. Those are really expensive, so the whole thing is only used for a really powerful potion," Tacita said, sounding surprisingly upset.

"You're miffed because he was wasting money?" Granville asked, not getting it at all.

"No, I'm upset because…because it was _there._ I'm upset…" she took a big breath and let it out. "I'm upset because when I got angry at Stumps, the first thing I thought of doing was stabbing her with that horn…and not just that. I really, really _wanted_ to do it. I could see her screaming in pain …I really enjoyed that image." She sounded scared. "I got mad because…what if she's right? My dad said that illness got passed down on genes, but what about insanity?"

Granville stared at her for a moment. "So you hexed her because you didn't want to stab her?" he asked.

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Yeah, but you _didn't_ stab her," Granville pointed out. "As long as you're in control, it's fine." He said it as if that were the end of it. He looked down at his watch and reached out, tugging on the sleeve of her robe. "Come on, we're going to be late if we don't turn back now." He tugged her back toward their common room.

"I'm not sure it's that simple," she said as she walked back with him.

"And I'm sure it is," he responded, looking back at her with a smile. "Look, you didn't stab her, so don't worry about it. Worry about it when—if—you _do_ stab someone. Until then, it's Christmas soon, and we get to go home and get presents."

"Not me," Tacita said gloomily.

"What do you mean by that?" Granville asked, stopping to look back at her.

"I'm staying here over break," Tacita said.

"Why?" Granville asked. "We can stay here any year. You should have at least waited until I got permission to stay too!" He protested.

"It's not that," Tacita said.

"Then what is it?"

"I haven't spoken to my Aunt since term started…I don't think she's going to want me back," she said quietly.

"Oh Tasi, I'm sorry," Granville said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Maybe you can come stay with us for the holidays?"

"That's sweet, but you haven't even told them that we're friends yet," she pointed out, making the boy flush. They'd already talked about the idea that his parents probably wouldn't be happy with him being friends with her. "You can invite me next year, after you've told them," she said. "I don't mind staying here."

"Yes, you do."

"Okay. Yes, I do, but I'm okay," she said. "Now come on, curfew," she said, striding past him, leaving Granville to catch up.

* * *

"Professor Longbottom. Can I speak to you for a moment?" Granville asked, knocking on Neville Longbottom's door as he stepped inside.

Professore Longbottom looked up from the papers he was grading. "Of course, Mr. Jorkins. Is it a house matter, or a class matter?" he asked.

"House. But have you graded my paper yet?" Granville asked, stepping in and shutting the door, eyeing the papers on the Herbology professor's desk.

"Yes. Don't worry, you did fine," Professor Longbottom said. "You had some help from your friends, right?" he asked.

"Yes, Professor…is that bad?" Granville asked.

"Not as long as you can pass the final, it's not," the professor responded, putting his quill down. "Have a seat, and let's talk."

"It's about my friend," Graville said slowly.

"Oh?" Neville asked having heard the "it's-my-friend-who's-actually-me" speech a lot already.

"I'm worried for Tacita," Granville said. "She's signed up to stay for the holidays," he said quickly.

Professor Longbottom raised an eyebrow. He hadn't exactly expected this. "I'm afraid that's her choice."

"No, Professor Longbottom. I mean…she told me that she isn't going home because her aunt hasn't sent her a letter since near the start of term," Granville said.

"Is there something you think I can do about this?" the professor asked.

"Well, Tacita said in Muggle schools, they have parent-teacher conferences…so I thought maybe you could have one of those with her aunt." He was suddenly feeling nervous for even suggesting it.

"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Jorkins, is there anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Then I need to get back to work."

"Of course," Granville said, standing. "Have a good evening, Professor," he added as he exited the room.

* * *

He wasn't exactly sure what made him do it, but he had a feeling it was the hopeful look in Granville Jorkins's eyes. He wasn't the brightest student, but he was loyal and hardworking, the quintessential Hufflepuff. He'd seen the young man with Tacita Lestrange for a while, but somehow he'd never believed that they were actually friends. From the moment Granville Jorkins had come requesting help for his friend, Neville Longbottom had been chastising himself for that. At the beginning of the year, he'd needed to continually remind himself that Tacita Lestrange was a child, and children acted like children.

He'd needed that reminder when Slughorn chortled about the excellent Batbogey Hex she'd cast on a Ravenclaw first-year. The reality was that he didn't spend every hour of his life thinking about the Lestrange family, and as the semester had dragged on, his thoughts had gone more to his own family, or his own friends, or even what he'd be doing for the holidays. Slughorn's laughing reminder had been jarring enough to make him wonder about her again. The fact that Slughorn had complemented the girl's hex as being one of the best he'd seen from a student in years made Neville raise an eyebrow. It had made him wonder again if she would be like her parents.

It also reminded him that students often had a something in them naturally that they were very good at. Harry had been the youngest Seeker in a century. Hermione had been lauded for being able to solve logic problems few adult wizards could. Ron was one of the best chess players Hogwarts had ever seen. Professor Sprout told Neville himself in his second year that he was the most promising Herbology student she'd seen in her entire tenure. Being good at a hex didn't make Tacita Lestrange abnormal; at least, no more abnormal than Neville's year.

Jorkins coming to his office and asked for help for her simply reminded Neville again that Tacita was just a girl, just a child. Neville was the adult, and he needed to act like it. Parent-professor conferences weren't unheard of, but they normally involved the parents coming to Hogwarts for the conference. Neville doubted a request for such a meeting would do anything but cause more problems, which was why he was now standing in front of the house of Vega Lestrange.

It reminded him of the Weasley house in that it was isolated from the normal Muggle houses. He'd needed to be directed to the Lestrange house once he found the right village. The Muggles had given him odd looks for wanting to visit there before he explained that he was the young Lestrange child's teacher. After that, they'd given him warnings but pointed him the right direction.

Some wizards would never have been able to ask for directions from Muggles, but one of the requirements for being an Auror was the ability to blend in when necessary, and that meant being able to look like a Muggle. He had a few very nice suits for just such occasions. Of course, it was unlikely to win him a new friend with Vega Lestrange, but he wasn't coming for this little visit to make friends. From what he'd heard from the Muggles, Vega Lestrange was haughty, and while she lived in the old squire's home, the villagers thought that the house was the last bit of wealth her family actually had. She treated them like she was better than they, but they all had the idea that she was constantly trying to get enough money together to buy bread.

Neville could see it in the way the yard was kept. The Burrow's yard was every bit like the house it surrounded, but there was warmth to the growth; there was life. This house, though large with a wide lawn, looked like it had once been beautiful and elegant. It was still beautiful, but its glory was faded under dusty porches, overgrown plants, untended topiaries, broken fences, and the fact that everything could have used a fresh coat of paint didn't help matters any. The windows looked sparkling, though, suggesting that maybe the inside wasn't so rundown, that there was at least _some_ pride in the upkeep of the house, and the Lestrange name.

Observations like that had been drilled into his head when he'd trained to be an Auror, and it had saved his skin more than once. He pulled out his wand and cast a non-verbal shield charm, keeping a wary eye out. "State your business before I hex you," came a sudden hiss from behind him. Apparently he hadn't been wary enough.

Neville took a steady breath, glad for the shield charm. "Mrs. Lestrange? I'm Tacita's head of house; I came to speak with you concerning your niece." He spoke clearly.

"You came to speak to me… dressed like a Muggle?" she asked, and he Neville couldn't tell if she was angry or disbelieving. "State your name, boy," she demanded.

"Neville Longbottom," he said. Maybe if he were still a student, he would have hesitated or stuttered. Then again, he rather doubted it; not when faced with a Lestrange with a wand on him. If he was going to die at the hands of the people who'd tortured his parents, he wasn't going to stutter or beg. He would die with his head held high. Of course, it wasn't that dramatic this time.

"You're kidding me!" the woman exclaimed. She kept her wand trained on him and slowly walked around to face him. He'd never actually seen Vega Lestrange before. Like Bellatrix, she'd married into the family, and like Bellatrix he imagined she'd once been a very handsome woman. Now, though, her brown hair, cut unflatteringly short, looked like it belonged to someone at least ten years older than she had to be. Her skin was tight, but not in a healthy way. She was incredibly skinny, and he could see some sagging of the skin around her particularly bony elbows. There were wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her lips. She looked like someone who'd seen too much life, someone who was not a healthy weight and he wondered if her incredible skinniness was from vanity or a lack of funds.

"I assure you, ma'am, the only thing that got me out here was a rather desperate plea from one of my students," he said. He gave the witch a level look until she lowered her wand, and he lowered his.

"You have a lot of brass," she said in a way that he couldn't tell was condescending or approving. "Follow me." she walked inside. It was at that point that he noticed a rather old and tattered invisibility cloak over her arm. A cloak like that wouldn't conceal anyone that well if they were moving. Constant vigilance; that was the mark of a good Auror. He may be a Herbology teacher now, but he'd left his old position because he preferred plants, not because he hadn't been good at his job. It now looked like he needed to remember some of his old Auror lessons.

Vega Lestrange led him inside. He was right to guess that the house was better cared-for on the inside. Even still, the furniture seemed ancient, and as he was led into the living room, he wondered if he would break the sofa if he sat on it.

"Pipsy!" the woman called, and an old house elf tottered out.

"Yes, Mistress?" the elf asked in a voice that may have been high pitched in his younger years.

"Refreshments," Vega said, walking to the sturdiest looking chair in the room and falling gracefully onto it. "Sit," she ordered Neville. He found the second-sturdiest chair and lowered himself carefully into the seat.

"Mrs. Lestrange—" he started, feeling the oddest sensation of those particular words falling off his tongue.

"Why are you here, Mr. Longbottom?" the woman asked, with mockery in her tone as she came to his last name.

"I'm here because a student—"

"Asked you to. I heard you the first time, Longbottom," the woman said. "So, my niece asked you to come, then."

"Actually, no. I'm not even sure she knows I'm here," Neville said. "One of her friends asked me to speak with you." Maybe that wasn't the best thing to reveal, but Vega Lestrange was talking to him, and neither of them were trying to hex each other's ears off, yet.

"Probably some Muggle-loving Hufflepuff," she muttered.

"I can't really attest to the Muggle-loving part," Neville said, nodding to the house elf as it brought him a drink. "But all of this is beside the point. Mrs. Lestrange, is it true that you haven't been in contact with your niece since start of term?" he asked.

"Is it the business of Hogwarts if I haven't?" she asked defensively.

"No, I suppose not," Neville admitted. "But, your niece has signed up to stay at Hogwarts over holiday break. Are you aware of that?"

Vega Lestrange sat very still for a moment. "No, I was not aware of that," she said.

"I can still get her name off the list if you want her home," Neville said, feeling like he was walking into dangerous waters now.

"She's already made her choice," the woman said, quickly and dismissively. Maybe Neville would have let it go, but he'd heard his Gran use that tone before. The most memorable time was when he'd broken a little clay pot his father had made as a boy. Gran had been very hurt, but she'd spoken of it as if it had been nothing.

"I'm sure she'd be willing to come home if she thought you wanted her to come. Mrs. Lestrange, I understand that you weren't happy with her being sorted into Hufflepuff," he said, knowing it was a rather large understatement, "but your niece is only eleven, and you're the adult. I imagine that she would like to know that you still want her. You are her only family, am I correct?"

"Not _only_, but the Malfoys are…less than happy to have us around," Vega said, sniffing in a rather snooty fashion. "Tell me, Professor Longbottom," she sneered over his name, "are you really here because you are fond of Tacita?"

"No. Actually, I rather prefer to not be around her if I can help it," he said.

"Truly?" she asked, and he wondered if she actually sounded pleased, or if it was simply his imagination.

"There are some things that are not…easily forgiven, even after the offenders are dead," he said simply.

"And yet you're here," she pointed out. "In a Lestrange house."

"Yes, but then, I too had to be reminded that I'm the responsible adult in charge," he said. "Frankly, I hope to never have to return here, or see you again, in my life. And I should hope to never see your niece again once she finishes schooling, or sooner."

Vega Lestrange nodded, sipping the drink Pipsy had brought earlier. "Is there anything else, Longbottom?"

"No, I believe that's all," he said.

"Then I suggest you leave," she said as he stood.

"Gladly," Neville said, finishing off his drink and heading for the door. There was no goodbye or any other parting words. For a brief moment, the two had been able to find a common connection. But as soon as the moment was gone, Neville knew he had a very short window of time before they'd be crossing wands. Another thing he knew was that Tacita Lestrange would be going home for Christmas break.

* * *

Two days later, a letter arrived in the mail for Tacita Lestrange. She was very startled when a post owl dropped the letter in front of her. She wondered for a moment who would be writing her, as she'd stopped expecting mail from her aunt. When she saw who it was from, she merely stared, somewhat afraid to open it. Finally, Granville tried to slip the envelope from her fingers, only for her to tighten her grip until he couldn't get it away.

"Fine, then. _You_ open it," Granville said, almost as anxious as his friend. After his meeting with Professor Longbottom, he'd wondered if he had done the right thing. Sometimes, he was strongly convinced that he had; other times he felt a certain type of sick out of guilt. He hadn't told his friend what he'd done. She'd confided a very private kind of pain, and the first thing he'd done was gone and told someone else. He didn't think she'd appreciate it.

"Fine," Tacita said quietly. She carefully broke the seal, the Lestrange Family crest set in emerald wax. Tacita had a seal set as well, though her line used black ink, in reference to her mother. She knew that from letters she'd found that her father had sent before and after his marriage. Before the marriage, he'd used the emerald-colored wax as well.

Granville was half-certain he would scream if she didn't pull the letter our any faster. He wanted to know what it said. He was about to try and tug the envelope out of her hands again when she slowly lifted the letter out and unfolded it. After that, he wasn't sure he could remember how to breathe. Her eyes quickly ran over the words before flicking to him.

"Aunt Vega says that she wants me to come home for Christmas," she said.

"That's great!" Granville said instantly, hoping that his happy tone would keep her from telling him why she was looking at him so pointedly.

"That's not all," she said. "She said that while she'd been very disappointed in my getting into Hufflepuff, that she also doesn't hate me for it. She simply thinks that I failed to live up to my potential, and that I won't do well in Hufflepuff." She said this in a way that made him think that _she_ thought it was true as well.

"Oh," Granville said, shifting a little under the girl's look. Why couldn't she stop looking at him like that?

"Yes, oh," she said, her tone getting a little sharper. "She also said that Professor Longbottom came to visit her…saying something about a friend of mine asking him to."

"Really. How interesting," he said, trying to sound off-handed.

"Granville," Tacita said. For just a moment, Granville wondered if her famous mother had been able to speak in such a way. Granville didn't normally speak about the woman, especially after he found out that he knew more about her than her own daughter. Secretly, Granville had a rather morbid fascination with the players in the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Okay, I went to him," Granville admitted. "I was worried, and you were really upset," he said. "I didn't tell you 'cause I thought you'd be angry," he said, which now, he thought, he'd been very spot on about.

"Angry," she asked, sounding, to him, surprisingly perplexed.

"Because you told me something secret…and then I went and told someone else," he said, chewing on his bottom lip. "I don't want you to be mad at me, but I'm not sorry," he said, holding his head a little higher than he normally did.

Tacita looked at him before looking back down at the letter. She was silent long enough that Granville started to get nervous, and then he started to get really worried when she _still_ didn't speak. "I've thought about it," she finally said, making him sigh in relief, which earned him a tiny twitch of the lips from her. "I'm not happy with you, and I _will be_ angry if you do it again…but I'm not." She looked back at the letter, reading it again, this time more slowly. "But…it was very kind, what you did," she said softly.

Granville sat there for a moment, looking stunned. He'd expected her to get really angry. He could normally entice her into yelling, but that was more fun because she wasn't _really_ angry when she yelled. If he got her really, _really_ mad, she just wouldn't speak at all. The silence worried him when he was with her. It was particularly troubling because silence seemed to be her default.

"So _that's_ what it takes to make you stop talking." Tacita sounded amused. She stood up and gathered her books together. "Well, come on," she said.

Granville scrambled to get his things together. "Where are we headed?" he asked, following her out of breakfast.

"I need you to tell Professor Longbottom to take my name off the list of people staying for Christmas," she said. The list had been removed from the common room the day before.

"Why can't you do that yourself?" he asked.

"Because Professor Longbottom doesn't like me very much, and I don't like being around him. I'll be there, but you have to tell him," she said. "You told him about my problem in the first place, so you might as well finish it," she said.

"You _are_ angry, aren't you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not angry," she said, as they headed to the professor's office. "But if you're going to butt into my affairs, there are consequences." She said this with a thoroughly pleasant smile that made him shiver. He needed to be sure never to get on her bad side.

"Okay, fine," he muttered as they finished their walk. He knocked the door, pushing it open when he heard the 'come in'.

"Professor Longbottom?" Granville said as he stepped in, looking up at their professor.

Professor Longbottom looked up from what he was doing, which was quickly pulling on his outside robe. It was made to get dirt all over it, but he didn't wear it except when he was out in the greenhouses, and then only over his normal attire. "What is it?" he asked.

Granville felt Tacita poke his side, and he realized he was supposed to say something. "Um…Tacita needs you to take her name off the stay-list," he said.

"Already taken care of," the professor said. "Now, it's almost time for class, go," he said, shooing them out so he could finish getting ready.

The pair quickly shooed, though Tacita looked a bit troubled. "How did he know to take care of it?" she asked.

"Maybe your aunt told him when he was there," he suggested. "Don't worry about it. Look, last Potions class today. Do you want to be late?"

"No, I don't suppose so," Tacita said, letting herself be led down to the dungeons.

* * *

Christmas break started only a day later. Tacita, who hadn't packed at all previously, was suddenly scrambling to get all her things together. She rather wished she could get Granville up to help her, but the stairs had already turned to a slide when he tried to come up and drop off some notes. There was no point risking that useless experiment anymore. She knew she'd be happy when she could learn the spell to make her things pack themselves.

Time came for them to be finished, and she'd finished just in time to pull on her Muggle clothes. Some people, like her aunt, dressed up in such a way that they would often get stares in Muggle areas, but Muggle dress rarely received stares in Wizarding areas. It was part of why Tacita preferred her Muggle dress outside of school. In school, she spent most of her time in her uniform.

She hurried down the stairs to where Granville and Grimwold were waiting for her. "Took you long enough," Grimwold said, surly since Slytherin had won against Ravenclaw. Tacita didn't understand the math of it all, but somehow beating Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff's first match after break, meant that it would be harder for Hufflepuff to win the Quidditch cup. She didn't question it much.

"It took as long as it took," she said blandly, standing next to Granville. Really, she wondered if Granville would look like his brother when he got older. She hadn't thought much of Grimwold until she'd seen him in his Quidditch uniforms. She'd heard one of the girls say anyone looked good in the uniform, and she'd supposed it was true until now. Uniforms really didn't suit anyone, but she wondered why Grimwold looked so different in Muggle clothes than in his uniform. He looked rather…handsome in Muggle clothes.

Tacita looked down at the book she had tucked under her arm to hide her blush. "I need to drop this off at the library," she said.

"I got a few myself. I'll go with you," Grimwold said. He had a pile, really. "Hey, Stumphead, we'll see you at breakfast." Grimwold grabbed up his books and headed out the common room entrance, Tacita following behind him.

"Why do you have so many books?" she asked.

"Muggle studies and Arthimancy," Grimwold said.

"Those don't sound like things you're interested in," she said.

"They aren't," Grimwold said. "Mom told me to take them." He shrugged. "Arithmancy isn't so bad, but Muggle Studies is…odd. They've had a hard time getting a teacher since the last one got eaten by a snake."

"When was that?" Tacita asked, surprised she hadn't heard about it.

"Back when Voldemort was still alive," he said. "It's been a few years, but they haven't found anyone good. The current lady has no idea. I mean,_ I_ have no idea, but she _really_ has no clue what she's talking about," he said. "Some of the kids hang on her every word, but I don't think Muggles used electricity because it could power their home electronics."

"No, it was because it was more efficient and more powerful than what came before it: candles, fires, coal," she said. She wrinkled her nose a little. "That doesn't sound very good."

"It's not. I don't think she's going to be here next year. I heard they already have some new guy lined up," he said as they rounded the corner to the library.

"Grimwold?" Tacita asked as she waited for him to put his books in the drop box one by one under the careful gaze of Madame Pince.

"Yeah?" he asked, distracted.

"Is Granville going to tell your parents about me?" she asked quietly, and it wasn't her normal type of quiet. It was more anxious and unsure. Tacita was rarely unsure about anything, and that was why Grimwold turned to look at her.

"I don't know," he said. "My parents are very strongly anti-Death-Eater," he said. "I think maybe they're ashamed that they didn't speak up when it mattered." He had a somewhat low opinion of his parents, though Granville didn't seem to share that view. "He's just scared. Our parents are rather intimidating."

"Intimidating like Slughorn?" she asked, surprising a laugh out of Grimwold, which made her smile a little, though she didn't notice.

"Yeah, I doubt you'd be afraid of them, but they _are_ our parents. We're contractually obligated to be afraid of them." He finished with his books and let the girl slip her own into the drop-box before escorting her down to breakfast. On the way she asked him about Arithmancy until he figured out that she was considering taking it when she started her third year.

Breakfast was a fairly loud affair, as everyone was happy for the end of classes and Christmas. Granville chattered about plans, explained how their family did Christmas, while Tacita nodded along. If she didn't interrupt him, Granville would talk forever, but she was normally content to listen, or at least nod along and stay quiet. Today was no exception. Consequently, Granville was one of the last done with lunch, so the three were some of the last in the coaches to Hogsmeade Station.

When the coaches arrived at the station they said their goodbyes, since the Jorkins were waiting for them there. Granville hung back at the coaches and Tacita felt hurt because she knew that he was hiding her from his parents. "Bye, Tacita. I'll see you when term starts up again," Granville said.

"Bye, Stumphead," Tacita said before hopping up to Grimwold and wrapping her arms around him in a rather uncharacteristic hug. "Bye Grimwold, have a good holiday." She waved and walked to the train. She felt like someone had slapped her from Granville's actions. Though for just a moment she'd felt a very distracting warmth when she'd hugged Grimwold. She set aside that feeling, though, not wanting to examine what it meant. Instead, she focused on her hurt. Granville was a nice guy, and he was protective of her during school, but she'd never say he was the bravest guy, especially when it came to his parents.

She sighed and let that go. It would be easy to focus on hurt feelings that came from being related to someone who people still feared and hated. She couldn't describe how it made her feel. She could say she felt sad, or frustrated, but it was different than that. She hadn't been able to find words for that feeling, but it felt like they were right on the tip of her tongue, which was just infuriating.

Tacita set aside all of her darker feelings as she found a seat on the train. She needed to focus on Christmas presents, and when she'd have time to buy anything, and if she'd be able to swing by the library at any point to try and get the dictionary she wanted for her science book. Those things were much more concrete worries, and she could handle the concrete, even if they were set in stone.

* * *

**(A/N: Yes, I know this is ridiculously long. On final count it's 7,200+ words, and 24 pages long. I'm officially in England now, and I really don't have time to updates much, mostly because I'm either walking around the town or trying to finish the books I need to finish. Anyway, think you so much for reading. Reviews are much loved! Thank you!)**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: (So, I've done a lot of writing for _Yu Yu Hakusho_ recently, and I do have plans to write another chapter for my _Tangled_ fic, but I want to do more on this one. This chapter is influenced by Lady Altair's "Cauterize", which you should read if you haven't read it yet. I've also finally started to get what I really wanted: showing the way a child of a Death Eater would grow up after the second wizarding war. I wanted this to be something like a Harry Potter version of the play _Born Guilty_.)**

* * *

Tacita stared out her bedroom window, watching the snow falling. Christmas was only about three days away and she still hadn't gotten gifts. The past few days had actually been very awkward. Her aunt had cheered the news about her advancing so quickly in potions, as well as the news that Slughorn liked her so much. Of course these happy bouts still contained her aunt's strong reminders that she would have done better in Slytherin. Tacita didn't tell her aunt that even if she'd been in Slytherin she'd probably be just as miserable and she wouldn't have had Granville to lean on.

She did tell her aunt about Granville, almost out of spite for her friend who couldn't find the courage to tell his parents that they were friends. Her aunt didn't react well, mostly because she didn't want her niece associating with muggle-lovers who didn't have a great pureblood pedigree. For once this struck Tacita a bit like her aunt was trying to breed her like a dog.

"_I don't care, Granville's the only one who will come near me, and he's helping me with History of Magic, and he's my friend. I'm a hundred kilometers away from you most of the year and you can't stop me from being friends with him!"_

After that her aunt had stopped talking about Granville… actually she'd basically stopped talking to her again. Tacita felt like she would have to get used to this. Her aunt was brilliant at playing the quiet game, especially when she was angry. It didn't help that Tacita herself tended to be naturally quiet. They hadn't said anything to each other in three days. Unfortunately for her pride, Tacita needed to go to Diagon Alley. She sighed, packing up the small amount of money she had left from going to her account the last time. She'd need to access it again, though that would be a bit tricky, considering how iron clad he father had been about the trust he'd set up for her. The money was only to be used for things related to Hogwarts… and then it hit her.

She didn't see why she hadn't seen it before. Related to Hogwarts, well her friends were related to Hogwarts. She could get money to buy presents and not have a problem with the Goblins. Besides, they seemed to enjoy breaking wizard rules anyway. With that thought she quietly put her money pouch into her bag and went down stairs to find her aunt. Immediately she wished she'd picked something else to wear. She liked her muggle clothes the best, but he aunt always glared at her when she saw her wearing them. Too late to fix that now.

"I need to go to Diagon Alley," Tacita declared, giving her aunt a strong look. She didn't understand that it was very similar to the one her mother would use to show that she was superior and must be listened to, all Tacita knew was that it increased her aunt's likelihood of doing what she wanted.

"Oh really," Vega Lestrange said, raising an eyebrow slowly. "You meeting your little friend?" she asked.

"No," Tacita said, keeping her head held high. "His parents wouldn't let him even if they knew about me," she said, hearing the pain in her own voice. It hurt her that he was ashamed of her and afraid to tell people about her. She was proud of having him as her friend, and he was afraid of telling people about her. Of course she was hurt. "I have to go Christmas Shopping," she said.

"Yes, Christmas…" Her aunt nodded, considering the words before finally standing. "Alright, go get your coat," she said.

Tacita smiled and went to the hall closet, getting the thick winter coat her aunt had bought her the year before after Tacita had begged and pleaded with her to get it. She couldn't go to muggle school wearing a cloak! As she pulled on her boots she pretended not to see her aunt slipping the antique silver snuff box into her money pouch. It would be going to Borgin & Berk's before the say was over, but Tacita pretended not to know that. Just like she pretended not to know that the only way they were even eating was because he aunt continued to sell family heirlooms.

Vega opened a box by the fireplace, letting Tacita take some of the floo powder out of it before shutting it. Vega would be apperating to Diagon Alley, but Tacita wasn't quiet old enough for side-along apparition just yet. Tacita threw the powder into the fireplace. "Diagon Alley," she said clearly once she stepped into the flames before being dragged to the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. It was still early enough in the day that the only person there was the land lady, Hannah Longbottom. Tacita kept her head down and walked out the front door to the streets of London. She was actually glad her aunt wasn't with her. She wanted to shop for things that he aunt would be less than happy with her buying.

She walked determinedly down the street, heading for the corner and the giant bookstore that occupied it. She was tired of Granville incessantly asking her muggle history questions like she knew everything. She'd had muggle history for a few years, but she hardly knew all about it. She entered the bookstore, momentarily pleased by all the books. She hoped she could find time to explore the store in the future, but knowing her aunt it would be the far distant future. She quietly asked for directions before being directed up two flights of stairs to the history section.

She was more than a little pleased by the size of the store, and quickly started to look through the books. She knew herself and she knew that she could be there for hours. She needed to get something a run and she didn't have time to browse all the books in the section. She ended up debating about two books, both within her price range before just giving up and getting both. What could it hurt? She headed back down the flights of stairs to the counter.

Waiting in line was not the happiest thing, especially when time was against her. She had a limited amount of time to do this, especially depending on how long her aunt took at Borgin & Berk's. She was tapping her foot impatiently before she got up to the counter.

"Will this be all?" the woman behind the counter asked.

"Yes," Tacita said. "Can you hold these books for me? I don't quiet have enough money on me for both," she said.

"Are you sure you can afford it?" the woman asked. "It will be 93 pounds," the woman said, wondering where an eleven year old would get that kind of money.

"Yes, I'm sure," Tacita said, giving the woman a similar look to the one she gave her aunt when she was trying to get to Diagon Alley. The difference was that the woman behind the counter didn't know her, but she knew that look enough to know not to ask questions.

"When will you be returning?" the woman asked, starting to write out a card to put the books on hold.

"In the next hour," Tacita said, glancing at the clock. She took a moment to try and read it before she was able to figure out what it said. Reading face clocks had never been her strong suit. "Hopefully," she added before leaving. It would take another line to get her books, actually it was going to take three.

She headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, keeping her head down again, especially when she saw Professor Longbottom standing at the bar. She didn't want to deal with him is she could help it, instead heading through to Diagon Alley and quickly up the road to Gringotts. She didn't have a lot of time, and this was going to take a bit of time. First was to queue up to talk to a goblin, then to answer questions about what she was getting her money out ("for school" worked, thankfully, but there would be more questions asked if she kept getting money out of her vault, she was sure). Then came a trip to her vault, scooping coins into her money pouch while trying to calculate approximate amounts for what she'd need, plus trying to figure out conversion rates in her mind. She rounded up to be sure she had enough. Once she got out of the vault and back to the 'main' part of the bank she had to sign paperwork about how much money she was taking out. She knew it was to keep her aunt from spending Tacita's inheritance into nothing, but sometimes Tacita really resented the money. Her aunt nearly starved while this money was right there… she just couldn't get to it.

When she finished with the paper work she had the Goblins change exactly 93 pounds for her. They didn't care what she did with her money as long as they didn't have legal problems later. If she was getting something for Hogwarts related things that involved muggle money what did they care? She was thankful for their lack of care, and the fact that she didn't have to stand in another line.

Tacita raced back to the book store, passing this time not only her professor and his wife, but some of their friends, but she didn't notice as she was too intent on her mission.

* * *

"It's good to see you again Harry," Hannah said, sliding a drink into his hands.

"Now what I'm I drinking?" he asked, taking a sip and making a face. "Sweet," he muttered.

"It's just a cider, same alcohol content, less alcohol flavor," Hannah chirped.

"Then what's the point?" Harry asked, sipping the drink again. Yeah, very sweet.

"It's for people who don't like the taste," Hannah said. "Hermione will probably like it better when she gets here," Hannah said. She smirked. "I'd say your wife might like it better, but knowing her she probably can drink you under the table," she said.

Harry winced. "That only happened once," he muttered. Of course he hadn't put himself in a situation to try out drinking her again.

Hannah laughed. "Neville will be back in a minute. He's putting the girls down for a nap," she said before going back to wiping down the bar.

"How have the girls been?" Harry asked, glancing at his watch.

"They'd been good. They're happy to have their daddy back for a few weeks," she said. "Who all's coming through?"

"Well, Ginny's got the kids. They'll be staying with Molly and Arthur," Harry said, feeling a bit pleased with himself that he'd actually be able to say their name after all the years they'd been telling them to call them by their first names. "And Andromeda should be coming through with Ginny. Teddy's going to stay at the Burrow while we're all out Christmas shopping," he said.

"You lot sure waited till the last minute," Hannah said. "How's Andromeda doing?"

Harry shook his head. "You sound like Hermione," he said, taking a moment before turning to the less comfortable topic. "You know, I thought after Fred's funeral that I'd never see any woman take the death of her child so hard," he said. "But Molly's got all of us there to keep her… distracted at least… I don't know." Harry paused, sighing heavily. "But Andromeda… well…" he shrugged.

"She lost her husband, her daughter, and her son in law all in one year," Hannah added. "And Teddy's getting closer to going to Hogwarts," she said.

Harry nodded. "Two years and he'll be a first year," he confirmed.

Hannah shook her head. "It's just sad," she said.

"What's sad?" Neville said, coming down the stairs two at a time before walking behind the bar and pulling his wife into a kiss.

"You're in a mood," Hannah said with a laugh. "We're talking about Andromeda," she said.

"Oh," Neville said. It wasn't that he didn't like Andromeda, it's just that sometimes it was a little hard to look at her. Mostly he remembered that Bellatrix had killed her daughter, but every so often the similarity in their appearances would strike him in just the right way. It wasn't right, but he did try not to spend too much time around her. Thankfully she was closer to the Weasleys and Harry anyway. "Nothing fun I imagine," he said.

"She's just having a bit of a time dealing with the holidays," Harry said.

"I see, so, where are the others?" Neville asked. "Nevermind," he added, seeing three women and a man walk through the door and head their direction. He found himself waving enthusiastically.

"Hey Neville," Ginny Potter said, looping her arm around her husband and leaning against him. "Drinking already Harry? For shame!" she teased, picking up the bottle and taking a swig before making a face. "Eww, a bit too sweet," she said with a shudder. Harry and Hannah exchanged looks while Neville tried not to smile. He'd missed the drink conversation earlier, but he could guess how it went by those looks just fine. "Hermione, try this," she said, pushing the drink into the brunette's hands.

"I don't know," Hermione said, not sure that she wanted to try something that made Ginny shudder like that. Still she took a sip. "Hmmm, this it pretty good," she said. "I don't see what you were talking about it being too sweet."

At that moment Hannah, and Harry burst into laughter, followed shortly by Neville.

"What is wrong with the three of you?" Hermione asked.

"Did you slip something into the drink?" Ron asked, taking the glass and holding it up to light like he could see any dark potions in the drink like that.

"No," Neville said," wiping his eyes. "Just my wife's predictive abilities is all," he said. "I assure you that it's really not funny once it's explained… Hannah dear, what did you give them exactly?"

"Just a muggle concoction," Hannah said. "Bought a crate off a muggle pub, new type of pear cider for new drinkers," she said. "Would anyone else like to try one?"

A chorus of "we're good" sounded from the only people who were not Hermione who simply set the drink back on the bar.

Neville's eyes, and a few other eyes besides that saw a dark haired girl run through the pub, around tables and out front door. "Never seen anyone run out of Diagon Alley like that," Ron said, wondering if there was something wrong, "at least not that small."

"Don't worry," Hannah said. "That one ran out of here the second she arrived."

"And ran back through earlier," Neville added with a shrug. He was not going to think about school during the holidays, even if he did have a stack of things to grade sitting on his desk upstairs. "It's Christmas, a lot of students have to buy things for their wizard friends and their muggle friends," he pointed out. He was not going to care about this or ask questions today. He was not going to.

"Andromeda, are you okay?" Hermione asked kindly, sensing the woman's distress first.

"No, yes, I just…" the older woman shook her head. "It was like, seeing my sister all over again," she said softly, and Neville understood when no one else did. "I must be losing my mind," she said, shaking her head again. She did look pale, and Neville felt bad for her.

"No, you're not losing your mind," Neville said. "The resemblance is very close," he said. He felt confused when Andromeda looked confused. She knew, didn't she? "That was Tacita Lestrange," he added. It worried him when Harry and Ron looked less confused than Andromeda Tonks did.

"That was her? Blimey, I mean I thought she looked familiar," Ron said softly.

"Would someone like to fill us in?" Ginny asked, looking annoyed at being left out.

"Well," Harry started, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I mean, it's not like it's really a secret, but the Minister isn't exactly for spreading news about the children of Death Eaters… something about Dumbledore saying that children shouldn't suffer for the faults of their parents," he said. "But Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange had a child before they died," he said. He winced when Hermione gasped, everyone did, but what made Neville really wince was Andromeda's silence.

"I didn't know that," Andromeda said.

"I don't think a lot of people did," Ron said with a shrug. "Got the idea that Bellatrix wasn't very happy about it," he said with a shrug. "But she's at Hogwarts now, right?" he asked, and all eyes turned to Neville.

"Yes," Neville said carefully. "She's one of my students," he said.

"Probably in Slytherin too," Andromeda said quietly.

"No, she's in Hufflepuff," Hannah said.

"Hannah!" Neville said loudly.

"What?"

"That type of information isn't…"

"I know, student records and all, but what student doesn't show off their house when asked?" she pointed out. Neville still looked uncomfortable. They had rules about student records, but truthfully his wife wasn't wrong. He just suddenly felt worried about her giving out student information when he wasn't around. He told her because he needed to vent about his work, but he didn't tell anyone else and he thought she understood that she wasn't supposed to tell anyone.

"Hufflepuff, really?" Ron asked with a snort.

"Really Ron," Hermione said. "Hufflepuff is a perfectly respectable house. You remember how many of them stayed to help when-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ron said. Sometimes they would all sit around and talk long winded about the Battle of Hogwarts, and sometimes none of them wanted to even mention the name of it, this was one of those latter times. "But still, I mean…" he trailed off, looking at the older woman in their group. They'd taken her with them to try and help her feel better under the guise of all of them needing to do last minute shopping.

"But all of the Black sisters were in Slytherin," Andromeda said, nodding. "Neville is she a good student?"

"Now we really are getting into territory I'm not allowed to discuss," Neville said. "I'm sorry, I just can't," he said.

Andromeda nodded, seeming distracted and Neville wondered if she had heard him. "Do you like her?"

Neville winced. Great, perfect, and he had sworn up and down that he wasn't going to get into school things. "She's not my favorite student," he said. "Can we talk about something else?"

But at that moment the girl in question came back into the pub, smiling and happy and not running. If anything she seemed very happy, her arms wrapped around her package. All the eyes turn to her. Neville wondered for a moment if they were just that obvious, or she could feel it. She stopped and slowly looked up at him and Neville was distinctly reminded of an animal realizing that a hunter had seen it.

"Ms. Lestrange," he said, pronouncing her name correctly. He never said her mother's name like that, and he was sure that his friends were giving him looks for it.

Tacita looked at him for a moment before turning and walking over to them. "Good afternoon Professor Longbottom," she said politely.

"Are you having a good holiday?" he asked, trying to be nice, but she actually seemed to become uncomfortable.

Tacita's eyes darted to the faces who of the adults who were focused on her. "Yes, Professor," she said quietly.

Neville shot a look at his friends, as if to remind them not to stare. "I'm sorry, these are some of my friends," he said, trying to make the girl feel less awkward. "Ron and Hermione Weasley," he said, nodding to them. Ron nodded at her, having recovered from his shock of seeing Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter standing there speaking to them. Hermione smiled. "Harry and Ginny Potter," he said. Harry also nodded, and Ginny waved. "My wife Hannah." Hannah also smiled, but also started to move around the pub. "And Andromeda Tonks," he said.

It was odd noting her face at the introductions. She clearly knew who Harry, Ron and Hermione were. Her eyes had momentarily flicked up to Harry's forehead, but had moved away so quickly it was like she was simply checking to be sure she wasn't being lied to. She seemed the most interested in Ginny, though. Yet that stopped when he introduced his wife. The girl's mouth fell open.

"I didn't know you were married," she said with such awe that more than a few of them chuckled.

"No, I don't suppose I talk about much outside of Herbology," he said, his lips twitching in an almost embarrassed smile.

Tacita went quiet, looking at Hannah for a moment, before her gaze went back to where Ginny was standing, leaning against Harry. Being all of eleven the girl didn't really have the ability to actually hide all of her emotion. It was like they could see her working up her courage. "Um… would you mind if I asked you for something?" she asked, her voice louder than it seem she'd expected it to be.

"I'm sure it's okay to ask," Neville said, since it wasn't exactly sure who she was speaking to.

"Um, okay," she said, glancing at her professor before her eyes went to Ginny and Harry again. "My friend Granville really, really likes you," she said. "Would you mind if… would it be too much trouble… it would be a really great Christmas present if I could give him your autograph," she said.

Harry bit his lip, clearly trying not to smile. As Harry had gotten older he'd learned to deal with his celebrity better. He didn't mind when little kids asked for such things. Adults were a different story. "I don't think that would be a problem," he said. "Hannah, do you have any parchment?" he asked.

"Of course," Hannah said.

"Um, actually," Tacita started. "I meant your wife," she said.

Ginny burst into laughter, accepting the sheet of parchment that Hannah slipped over the bar to them. "Well, we'll both sign it. I'm sure he'll like that," she said. "Now, what did you say his name was again?"

"Granville, Granville Jorkins," Tacita said. Neville did smile a little. He'd been a tiny bit worried about maybe Tacita using Granville, but she seemed genuine about getting him something that he wanted for Christmas, even if she was afraid.

"Come here sweety," Hannah said. "We've got a bit of juice you might like, especially with you running so much," she said. Tacita seemed hesitant, but quietly climbed up onto one of the barstools and accepted the glass of juice that Hanna had gone to get her after the introductions. "Can I call you Tacita?" she asked.

"It's my name," the girl responded.

"Tacita then," Hannah said, ignoring her husband's pointed looks. He'd been trying to make the girl feel more relaxed, not invite her into their little group. "Would you mind me asking you what you were running out into Muggle London for?" she asked.

Tacita looked down at the juice she was sipping before she looked down at the package she was still gripping onto so tightly. "Granville was curious about muggle history," she said. "Wizard books on muggles are stupid," she added.

There was a loud noise that was probably a snort, though who it came from was not entirely true. "Here," Ginny said, slipping the sheet of parchment over to Tacita. The message was the standard 'study hard, have a good year,' type messages. Tacita dutifully pulled out one of the muggle books and slipped the autograph inside the cover before slipping it back into her bag.

"I take it you're Christmas shopping today?" Hermione asked, since conversation had stopped. They weren't really talking, more like one of them was speaking to the girl because they didn't know what else to do.

Tacita looked over at her and nodded, but then she stopped. She really caught sight of Andromeda. "You look just like my mother," she said so matter of factly.

Andromeda smiled a bit weakly. "There's a reason for that, dear," she said. "Bella was my big sister," she explained.

Tacita's eyebrows knit with confusion. "But you're not a Malfoy," she said. "Professor Longbottom said your name was Tonks," she said.

"Yes," Andromeda said. She looked sad, hurt even. "I married a muggle-born wizard. My family didn't approve," she said. "They try to pretend I don't exist," she said.

"Oh," Tacita said, all confusion leaving her face. "Yeah, they're really good at that, aren't they, ignoring you when you've done something they don't like?" she asked. Neville distinctly remembered having to speak to her aunt… yes she would know about that.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Andromeda said, still smiling sadly, but there was something odd in her face, like understanding. "I'm sure your guardian must be looking for you," she said. "Do they know that you've gone to a muggle store?" she asked.

Tacita winced. "No, I don't think Aunt Vega will like it. I need to hide this bag in the bag I get from the other book store," she said.

"But you like muggles?" Ron asked.

Tacita's eyes slid over to him, and she went quiet for a long while. "They do things wizards can't do and won't learn to do," she said. "It's interesting," she said.

"I think our dad would like you," Ginny said after laughing for a moment.

"Okay," Tacita said, finishing off her juice. "I have to go. I need to find Aunt Vega soon," she said. She started looking for money in her pouch.

"No, Tacita, it's free," Hannah said. "But you better get going."

"Thank you," Tacita said politely before bolting outside.

A silence stretched out for just a short moment. "What's wrong with all of you?" Neville asked.

"You invited her over," Ron pointed out.

"No, I didn't. She was nervous, It is my job to try and not make the students afraid," he said. "I was trying to put her at ease," he said.

"Well, she certainly is interesting," Ron said.

"She's a normal kid, you mean," Ginny said.

"Yeah, well, there's that," her brother responded.

"Weren't we going Christmas shopping?" Neville asked, trying to change the subject again.

"Yes, we were," Andromeda said, but she seemed the most thoughtful of all.

* * *

That evening, Tacita quietly wrapped her packages. She'd bought a book for Grimwold called _Quidditch Through the Ages_. It seemed like something he would enjoy. It also wasn't near as heavy as the books that as the two she'd bought from Granville. It turned out that the Goblins had given her 100 pounds, not 93, and she'd gotten a discount, so she'd picked up two discount muggle crime novels for Gimwold. They were very thin, and after she read through them herself she felt like they weren't very good. But they would probably be more illuminating on muggles than his Muggle Studies class.

She smiled at her packages and how neatly she wrapped them. She quietly got up and went to her owl, opening his cage. "Come on Gandalf, I have a very special mission for you," she said, stroking his head. "I need you to take these to Granville and Grimwold," she said.

Gandalf hooted softly as she tied the packages to his feet and let him out her window. She watched him fly off until she couldn't see him anymore. She smiled, a warm feeling hitting her chest as she watched him go, thinking of her friends getting their presents. It was pure luck that she'd met Ginny Potter, but she knew that Granville would really love that one, especially from how he'd gushed about her before.

That thought pleased her the most, so much so that she didn't even think about getting presents herself. She'd thought about it before, but had come to the decision that if Granville did buy her something that she would get it when they got back from break. He would be too chicken to send her anything.

* * *

**A/N: (Wow, sorry how long this took. This chapter has literally sat unfinished since September. Unfortunately I was literally 3/5th of the way done when my computer suddenly freaked out. My laptop sat unusable with all the data I had on everything locked up for about three months. I just got my data back recently, and then bought a new computer. I did plan for the Christmas chapter, and if I'd had the energy to finish this (plus the 3 other fanfic chapters I wrote very recently) I might have gotten this finished before Christmas. As it is… well, oh well, it's a little late. Maybe you can be reminded of the Christmas that just ended instead?**

**Again, very sorry for how late this is. I got the feel for this again, and I'm going to try to churn out the next chapter soon. We should be wrapping up the first year in the next two to four chapters or so, probably the next two. The first year shouldn't take _that_ long to talk about. **

**Anyway, thanks for reading. I really do love you guys, and thank you so much for the reviews!**


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: So, first, thanks to Zoffoli for making me get off my butt and work on this one. I can't remember what was second, so let's hop on it.

* * *

Tacita was surprised when on the day before Christmas Eve a visitor came to their front door. They never got visitors, ever. Even the standard issues door to door salesmen that had plagued her muggle friend's homes never came to her house. Sometimes she wondered how her muggle friends were doing. She'd seen some of them having a snowball fight from her window, but she didn't go out to greet them. She didn't know how to lie well enough to be able to talk to them. What would she do if the yasked about her schooling?

She was feeling particularly lonely when there came a sudden rapping on the door. She jumped up, grabbing her wand and running down the stairs. She heard her aunt's voice as she got near the last steps, though she couldn't quiet see who it was.

"What do you want, filthy blood traitor," her Aunt Vega snarled.

"I came to speak to you," came the surprisingly imposing voice of the woman Tacita had met at the pub. Andromeda Tonks, the aunt Tacita didn't know she had and instantly forgot about once she'd gone back to Diagon Alley. "Ah, Tacita, it's good to see you again," the woman said, making Tacita jump. She hadn't expected the woman to push her way into their home.

"I didn't invite you in," Aunt Vega hissed.

"I know, but what I have to say isn't really a conversation to have outside, not in this weather anyway," Andromeda said politely.

Aunt Vega scowled, casting a glance at Tacita who was still frozen four steps from the bottom. She seemed to be considering her options. In reality she was wondering how likely her niece would be to get hurt if she tried to force Andromeda out. "Fine," Aunt Vega finally snapped. "Say what you want and then get out."

Andromeda smiled. "Why don't we all sit down," she said. She walked into the living room as if expecting the other two to follow. Both the Lestrange women felt uncomfortable at this. Tacita didn't like anyone disrespecting her aunt in such a manner. Vega had momentarily been struck by the similarity between Bellatrix and Andromeda, remembering how her beloved sister in law would have done something so similar, though there would have been no discussion on the front step.

Tacita and her aunt walked into the living room and sat down. Aunt Vega found her favorite chair. Tacita picked a chair that was much closer to her aunt than she would normally sit. "So, what's so important to get you out here?" Vega demanded.

"Well," Andromeda said thoughtfully, as if she still wasn't sure that she had decided to say what she planned to. "Teddy and I have been invited to spend Christmas Eve at the Potters, but we'll have Christmas day and evening to ourselves. Teddy's the oldest of all of the children, and I thought it might be nice if we had family over."

"Family?" Vega hissed.

"Teddy?" Tacita asked.

Andromeda ignored Vega's tight lipped anger. "Ted Remus Lupin, my grandson, and your cousin."

"Cousin," Tacita said, considering a word that had never meant anything to her before. She'd only seen the Malfoys in the paper, especially when her only living cousin, Draco, had the birth of his son announced there.

"What makes you think that we're going to want to spend any time with filthy blood traitors like you?" Aunt Vega asked through gritted teeth.

Andromeda looked at Vega coldly, making her look almost exactly like the pictures Tacita had seen of her mother. "Maybe we should discuss this privately.

"Tacita. Go. Now." Aunt Vega said. Tacita didn't argue, she just went, thought she didn't go far. She slipped into the kitchen, waiting by the door to try and hear what was being said.

"Vega," Andromeda's voice carried from the living room. "I'm not doing this for you. Merlin knows we couldn't hate each other more. I didn't even want to come after what my… _sister_ did to Dora. But no, this isn't about me or you, it's about Teddy and Tacita."

"How did you even find out about her?" Vega snapped.

"I just found out the other day. I met her accidentally at Diagon Alley."

"She's never going unsupervised again."

"Oh, do grow up," Andromeda said, an eye roll in her very tone.

"It doesn't matter, you've wasted a trip," Vega said snippily.

"I don't think so," Andromeda said in a low tone that was very reminiscent of her sister when she was about to pounce on something she wanted.

"Why is that?" Vega spat, more out of fear (for reasons Tacita didn't understand) than actual anger this time.

"Vega, dear, can you tell me honestly that you can afford to give your niece a Christmas Dinner as good as what I can offer?"

There was no reply. Tacita knew there wouldn't be and she hated it. She felt a deep feeling of mixed guilt anger and shame. Why should what her Aunt would provide be seen as less than what a rich woman could provide?

"You can both come by at 8:30 on the 24th and stay the evening, and go home on the morning of the 26th," Andromeda said in a kind voice that Tacita hated even more than the cold voice from earlier. She waited to hear her Aunt's response, though the silence stretched on for what seemed like forever.

"Alright," Vega finally said.

* * *

They arrived promptly at 8:30. Tacita had a bag slung over her shoulder that had two changes off clothes and two sets of pajamas, as well as the gift she'd bought her Aunt Vega. Vega didn't bother carrying a bag. Pipsy, who would be coming to help Andromeda with Christmas dinner and to help set up once the children were asleep, would bring her mistress's things later.

Tacita arrived by floo network before her Aunt apperated to the Tonks house. The girl's first sight was that of Andromeda Tonks and a nine year old boy with bright teal hair and large brown eyes. She thought that she'd never seen anyone so strange looking in her life and couldn't help but staring, even when her Aunt popped into the room next to her and told her to stop staring.

"Tacita, this is Teddy. Teddy, this is Tacita," Andromeda introduced.

"Hello Tacita," Teddy said, offering his previously unknown cousin a huge smile. He walked over at hugged the older girl who in panic looked to her Aunt for help.

"Teddy, you're making Tacita uncomfortable," Andromeda said gently. Teddy let Tacita go, pouting and going back to his grandmother, hugging her legs. "Tacita?" she asked.

"Hello," Tacita said. That seemed like enough.

Andromeda smiled down at her grandson. He was such a happy lad, normally his charms worked on everyone. She wanted to sigh. Of course his charms wouldn't work on a Lestrange child.

"Okay Teddy, did you brush your teeth?" she asked.

"Yep!" Teddy said. Normally he wouldn't be so good about his teeth, but it was Christmas.

"Then you should go get in bed. Santa will come faster the sooner you get to bed," she said and laughed when he took off running up to his room.

"What's a Santa?" Tacita asked once Teddy was gone. Whatever it was, she didn't want to admit to the overly eager boy that she didn't know. That would be more embarrassment than she could bare.

"Santa is a man who brings toys to children, all the children of the world on Christmas," Andromeda said. She wasn't surprised, she'd had Santa explained to her by her husband after all.

"No he doesn't," Tacita said.

"But he does," Andromeda said, trying to get her niece to play along.

"Then he must skip our house," she said. She didn't notice that both women suddenly sucked in their breath. "Is there some place I'll be sleeping?" she asked.

"Yes, this way," Andromeda said, guiding her up to one of the guest rooms… well, not a guest room. It had been Dora's room. She hadn't been able to bear the thought of Vega Lestrange sleeping in her daughter's room. It had been painful enough letting Tacita stay there for two nights.

"Thank you," Tacita said, going into the room and shutting the door.

Andromeda sighed heavily, as she did whenever Teddy and everyone else was out of sight or hearing range, when she was actually alone and could remember what she'd lost. Then she headed down the stairs. "Yes?" she asked Vega, who was still standing by the fire place.

" Santa?" she asked with a smirk.

"It was important to Ted, and it was important to Dora," Andromeda said defensively.

"Whatever," Vega said. "Pipsy!" she called and the elf appeared. "Let's get to work." The two women had something of a peace treaty. They would be kind to each other for only 36 hours, just enough time to create Christmas for their children. The second the 36 hours were up everything would go back to how it had been before.

* * *

"Tacita! Wake up! Presents!" Teddy Shouted, banging on Tacita's door loudly before ripping down the stairs.

Tacita said nothing and made no sound as she got up. She changed into her clothes for the day, wondering just how early it was. The sun hadn't risen yet, that was certain, but then that didn't mean much that time of year. She went and brushed her teeth and headed down, surprised to see the annoyed and anxious younger cousin she'd just gained tapping his slippered feet at the foot of the stairs.

"Come on!" he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her down the last three stairs. "We can't start opening presents until everyone's here," he said, doing a pretty good imitation of his aunt.

She let the smaller boy drag her into the room, and even she had to admit that the room looked amazing, with lots of decorations and colors and the tree just like what Tacita had seen from school with electric lights. Andromeda's house was very muggle, even the presents, which had garishly muggle wrapping paper that Tacita and her little girl heart found delightful.

Teddy plopped down near the tree. "Can I now, Grandma?" he asked, clearly so excited he was practically shaking.

"Let Tacita sit down and then you can," Andromeda said, leaning back in her chair and trying to stifle a yawn.

Teddy looked at Tacita expectantly and she stood still for as long she could before sitting down, just to see how antsy her young cousin could get. The second her buttocks touched the floor, teddy had grabbed onto a box and started ripping it open.

Tacita had never seen anyone rip into presents so quickly. It seemed like Teddy had at least a dozen presents: toy broom sticks, sweaters, chess sets, books, mostly things that Tacita couldn't imagine even wanting. She'd never had so many presents in her life. She'd get one gift on her birthday and one on Christmas.

"Aren't you going to open you gifts, Tasi?" Teddy asked, finally noticing that his cousin wasn't touching any of the gifts.

Tacita winced a bit, hearing the boy use the nickname Granville had previously had to fight so hard to be able to call her. "These aren't all for you?" Did she feel jealous? Yes, some, but she refused to allow herself to acknowledge those feelings. Her Aunt Vega did the best for her that she could. It felt like a betrayal to want more than she had.

Teddy looked at her funny. "No, some of them are for Grandma, and you've got some presents too," he said. He crawled under the tree and pushed out two rather large presents, larger than anything Aunt Vega could afford.

Tacita reached out with shaking hands, taking the top package. It was neither light nor heavy. It was wrapped in the shining gold and silver muggle wrapping paper. She started opening it slowly, carefully lifting the tape and unfolding the paper, carefully untying the ribbon and setting it aside. It seemed a waste to destroy something so pretty just because it was meant to be destroyed.

She didn't notice how the others were watching her. Teddy was quiet but annoyed at how long she was taking. In his house they took turns opening gifts, and Tacita was taking _forever_. He wanted to open more gifts, but he didn't dare to say a word lest his Grandmother fuss at him. Andromeda, from her place on the sofa wondered about the type of life a girl would have lived if she seemed to treasure even relatively inexpensive wrapping paper and ribbon. Vega, though annoyed by her nieces interest in muggle things, couldn't fault her for the way she carefully opened the gift. Tacita was patient, just as patient as Rudolphus had always been.

Finally Tacita got into the gift. It was a set of brushes, combs, ribbons, and hair ornaments from one of the witchely beauty shops. "Thank you," Tacita said, looking over at Andromeda. Who else could it be from? This was a very nice gift, nicer than anything Aunt Vega could have bought.

"You can call me Aunt Andromeda… or just Dromeda if that makes you feel more comfortable," she said, seeing the girl stiffen a bit as calling Andromeda Aunt… like the woman who'd raised her.

"Thank you," Tacita said again in a quiet voice. She didn't call the woman anything. Her hand ran over the box and she felt that deep uncomfortable mix of guilt, shame, and anger. What was she supposed to do and say? She liked it, she really did, but Aunt Vega who gave her everything wouldn't be able to buy her such a thing. It would hurt her Aunt if she showed how much she liked it. She felt guilty for liking a gift that came from a woman that Aunt Vega hated so much.

She set the box down near her, but still touching her knee, as she reached over and took the neck package. It was huge and heavy, and obviously a book. She started unwrapping this one with the same meticulous slowness she'd done with her first gift. She was right, it was a book, an older one. She glanced at the cover before flipping it open. Her eyes were drawn instantly to the scrawled cursive writing of a name: "Ted Tonks".

"It was my husband's… he got… got it from his father. The complete works of William Shakespeare," Andromeda said, her voice quavering a bit. Tacita looked at her, understanding that there were things she didn't understand. Giving this book away was hard for Andromeda Tonks, harder than just giving away the book of a dead husband. There was a meaning that Tacita didn't understand.

"Thank you… Dromeda," she finally said, smiling some. "We… talked about Shakespeare at school, but I was too young to read his work. Thank you," she said. She knew her Aunt Vega was scowling, but she didn't care. It was a very thoughtful gift.

"My turn!" Teddy said, not understanding the atmosphere at all. He jumped into the pile of gifts still left for him, starting to shred into them again. Tacita found herself wanting to look through the book, but instead she set it aside, taking the wrapping paper and carefully folding it up so she could use it again, and setting the ribbons on top of her little pile of gifts.

Teddy ripped through his gifts for another minute before he turned to his grandmother, having her open some of gifts. They were much more practical than his: a small bottle of perfume, a pair of gloves, a new cloak, and a…. something that Teddy made for her that seemed like a rather gaudy necklace. Andromeda wore it proudly. As soon as Andromeda finished opening her gifts Teddy was about to grab his last gift when his grandmother stopped him.

"Teddy, no, Tacita still has one left," she said.

As if by magic, Tacita felt her eyes drawn to the one gift not wrapped in muggle wrapping paper. She scrambled over to get it, knowing exactly who it was from. She didn't bother to save this wrapping paper. Her hands were shaking too bad to do more than shred it anyway. She gasped when she saw what it was.

As a little girl Tacita had always admired a necklace her aunt had, a Lestrange family heirloom. It was a silver snake went around the neck, it's head biting onto part of its tail as a front clasp. The eyes were two, small emeralds. Tacita had always loved it, always wanted to wear it, but she hadn't seen it in over a year and she'd assumed her aunt had sold it for food. She didn't say anything. Her hands shook too much to put it on, though that was all she wanted to do.

"Come here, let's put it on," Aunt Vega sad, walking over and kneeling next to her niece. With gentle hands she slipped it around the girl's neck and closed the clasp. The second she pulled away Tacita had jumped into her arms and hugged her.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she gasped, squeezing her guardian. She didn't often show so much joy in front of her aunt, but then this was something different.

"It's okay," Aunt Vega said, a genuine smile coming to her lips as she hugged her niece. The moment didn't last long as Aunt Vega became stiff and pulled away.

"Hold on," Tacita said, hoping up and running up to her room. She came back down a few second later with the gift she'd bought her aunt. "Here," she said, presenting it to her. They looked at each other for a moment, but said nothing of the fact that the money Tacita spent on this should have been spent for school… sometimes it was better to break the rules.

"Thank you," Aunt Vega said before opening the gift. When she did open it she said nothing. It was necklace as well. It was pretty, but not expensive. Vega would never be able to sell it for food… which meant that she would always have it, the pretty little trinket. She glanced back at her niece, the child who understood too much about poverty. Without a word she simply slipped the chain around her neck.

Teddy, tired of waiting, finally opened his final gift, and Christmas morning ended.

* * *

Tacita spent every day until returning to school thinking about Christmas. She'd not gotten a gift from Granville or Grimwold, not even so much as a letter. It became easier to think of the huge dinner she'd had at the Tonks house, and the massive amount of food that Andromeda Tonks sent home with them, which served to be leftovers for days. It allowed Aunt Vega to serve for New Years dinner what she would have served for Christmas.

She thought about her cousin, who after calming down off his gift-high, started on Tacita with endless questions about Hogwarts. He was two years away from being able to go, and so anxious that it was actually like of funny.

"_Tasi, what's Hogwarts like? What's your favorite class? What's your teacher's like? What house are you in?" _

"_It's very big. My favorite class is potions. All the teachers are different. I'm in Hufflepuff." _

"_Tasi, what's your favorite teacher like? What's your least favorite teacher like? What's the food like? How did they put you in your house? Do you like your house?"_

"_My favorite teacher is Professor Slughorn. He's fairly nice; he's letting me study ahead. I don't like Professor Binns. He's dead and dead boring. The food's okay. They sorted us with a magic talking hat. My house is okay."_

"_I don't believe you, how do they really sort you? Is the castle really big, do you always get lost? Is it true there are ghosts around?" _

"_That's really how they sort you. The castle is really big. I only got lost at first. Yes, there are ghosts."_

She wasn't sure how many questions she answered, everything from classes and subjects to food and Quidditch, all the way to her friends. She'd spoken even more tersely about her _friend_, singular. A _friend_ who wouldn't tell his parents about her and wouldn't send her a gift on Christmas… and, well Grimwold wasn't her friend… he only spoke to her because of Granville. She was very glad when Teddy stopped asking questions about them.

She sighed, looking back out the window of the train. She had her new book sitting open in her lap, mostly unread. She'd never thought that reading English would be so hard, and it was hard to concentrate when she was wondering if Granville was coming to sit with her at all. She didn't even know if he was getting on the train or if he was back in Hogmeade with his family.

Tacita felt a quiet tension build in her gut while she waited. Her hand went up absently to the necklace her Aunt had given her. "_I would have given it to you when you got into Slytherin, if you'd gotten in," _He aunt had said over and over. Tacita felt like there was a lie in her Aunt's words, though she couldn't figure out why.

Her head shot up when the door opened and she hoped against hope that it would be Granville, but it was Virginia Stumps. Tacita scowled and looked back at her book. There was no point in saying anything. If Stumps felt like something needed to be said, then she would say it.

"Oh, it's the nutcase," Stumps said, sniffing as if she'd just smelled something fowl. "I'm surprised they let you back at all, though I suppose it makes sense. They're too afraid to let a dark witch like you out on her own. What? Are you mute?" She snapped. She was obviously trying to impress her friends, but Tacita wasn't even looking up from her book.

"Hmph, what are you reading a dark spell book? Trying to figure out how to curse me again and not get in trouble?" she snapped, stepping into the empty compartment and resting her hand on the book as if to grab it away. "Ouch!" Tacita had slammed the book down on her hand, even only half of the weight was heavy. Tacita smirked and opened the book back up to the play she'd been trying to read.

"You crazy little brat," Stumps hissed, drawing her wand. She opened her mouth to say a spell when Tacita glanced up at her. Her hand too was on her wand, though it was sitting on the seat next to her, and she'd simply applied enough pressure to it to have it pointed up at Stumps. It wasn't her hand on the wand that made Virginia Stumps hesitate, it was the look in her eye, the look she'd had right before Tacita had attacked her in the potions room.

"Hey!" came a sharp, older voice. "You lot want to clear out."

Tacita didn't break eye contact, neither did Virginia. She wasn't about to look away from the Lestrange girl and give her an advantage.

"Hey!" the voice said, reaching out and grabbing Virginia Stumps' wand. Tacita relaxed instantly. Leave it to Grimwold to clear up the fight before it even started. "Clear out," he said coldly before dropping into the seat next to Tacita, making her move her wand, and hand, before he sat on them.

"This isn't over," Stumps said, stomping out.

"Grimwold," Tacita said, smiling brighter than she normally did. She was just so happy to see him. She felt her heart doing little flips when he turned to look at her and smiled. She'd missed him.

"Hey," he said. "Granville's coming. Mum's grilling him a bit more on what friend he had who could send him such expensive presents," he said.

Tacita drooped a bit at that. "He still hasn't told?" she asked.

"Nah, he's scared. Mum's a bit… forceful," Granville said before standing and loading his trunk into the overhead bin. It made her wonder why he even bothered to sit down in the first place. "Hey, thanks for the gifts by the way. Sorry we couldn't send you something sooner. There's one owl in the family and Mum was busy sending letters to her new pen-pal in the States. Besides, we didn't have pocket money until after Christmas," he added.

"Is that true?" Tacita asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately. We get more money for Christmas then presents, and our parents won't let us have and advance of anything. I've got to deliver all of my gifts when we get back to school. It's so embarrassing doing this every year. I don't even have a lot of money left for Hogsmeade," he said with a heavy sigh. "Here, you better like this," he said, dropping a book that was almost as heavy as her Shakespeare book into her lap.

"Hey! Careful!" she snapped, moving the book to check and see if it had bent any of the pages when it had been dropped on top of the Shakespeare book that still sat in her lap. She carefully shut the book and set it aside before looking at what Grimwold had dropped into her lap. She gasped with delight.

"Hey! You started giving gifts before I got here?" Granville asked. He dragged his trunk in and kicked it open, pulling two books off the top and handing them to Tacita before he shut his trunk and got his brother to help him load it into the bin. Before the lid was shut, Tacita caught sight of the two books that she'd bought Granville for Christmas.

"Hello Granville," Tacita said, looking at the books that now sat in her lap. "Have we just decided to get each other muggle books?"

"Yeah, I wish," Grimwold said, dragging the compartment door shut. "Thanks for those pulp books by the way, I think I ended up buying about ten more on my own. Now my dad thinks I'm crazy. Mum too, until I told her they were to help me with my muggle studies class."

"If she finds out you're reading about people killing each other, she's not going to be happy," Granville said. Grimwold rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, Stumphead told me that you were interested in muggle stuff, but that you didn't know what a lot of the words were," he said. Tacita looked down at the large book sitting on her knees. A science dictionary… Granville had probably told Grimwold more than that. "So, we decided that he'd get you a few things. Had to split gift of that big thing. It was very expensive."

"Tacita, thank you for the books. How did you meet Ginny and Harry Potter, you have to tell me?" Granville asked, interjecting.

Tacita smiled. Maybe had hadn't said more than that. Maybe he'd just picked out the books he'd known she'd want. "I met them in the Leaky Cauldron when I was getting your gifts. Did you know that Professor Longbottom's married?" she asked.

"What, really?" Granville asked.

"No," Grimwold said.

"It's true, she works at the Leaky Cauldron. She gave me free juice. Professor Longbottom's friends are… strange," she said.

"How many people did you meet?" Granville asked.

"I met the Potters, and Ron and Hemione Weasley, and Dromeda," she said.

"You met Andromeda Tonks?" Granville asked, sounding worried. "Was she nice to you?"

"Nice? She had me and Aunt Vega over for Christmas… why wouldn't she be nice?" Tacita asked.

"Your mother was her sister," Grimwold said.

"I know that," Tacita said with exasperation.

"Tasi…" Granville said hesitantly. "Your mother killed her only daughter," he said.

"Oh," Tacita said. She sat still for a moment before her hand found the cover of the Shakespeare book that Andromeda had given her. She understood it now, the hesitation… the hesitation to invite them for Christmas… the hesitation to give the daughter of her daughter's murderer a gift that meant so much.

"Tacita?" Granville asked when she hadn't said anything for a long time.

"No, Granville, she was very nice. Cousin Teddy was very nice too. He reminds me of you, won't stop asking questions," she said. Grimwold snorted. Granvile scowled. Tacita smirked. After they turned away from that particular topic the trip became easier. Grimwold read his pulps, and Granville and Tacita talked about winter homework and helped each other finish what they still needed to get done. It was as if they hadn't been separated at all.

That night Tacita went to her room early before the other girls had even gone up. She wasn't sure how to write the letter she felt compelled to write. She sat staring at the parchment until the girls came in and she had to close her drapes and find the flashlight she'd bought new batteries for over Christmas break. She stared at the parchment until everyone was asleep and curfew had started. Finally she picked up her pen and started to write.

"_Dromeda,"_ She hesitated. "_Aunt AnDromeda,_" she squeezed in. "_I'm very sorry for what happened to your daughter. I know I can't make it any better, but I wish my mom hadn't been like that for once. Thank you for having Aunt Vega and I over for Christmas. Thank you very much for the book. I like it very much, I know that it must have been hard for you to give it to me. I really like it. Thank you very much. Sincerely, Tacita_" She hesitated again. "_PS: please tell Teddy about the sorting hat so he won't ask me about it again."_

She stared at her letter for the longest time. She knew it wasn't very good, but she also knew that she couldn't do any better. She blew on the ink to let it dry before she folded up it up and put it in an envelope. She laid her letter by her bedside and went to sleep. In the morning she'd have a school owl deliver it. She hoped it would be okay.

* * *

A/N: Yeah! I finished! Great time of year to start a new fanfic chapter: when everything in the world is due! Ugh!


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